Plus Minus, Give or Take
by xabie
Summary: College life throws Fuuko and Mikagami together again after 3 long years with the strangest kinds of results. A xabie production! Featuring: an amusing Bimbo, hot models, Sudoku, and nakedness! Timeframe: Three years after the end of SODOM
1. One

**Notes: **I am assuming that Mikagami's age at the end of the series is eighteen, and that Fuuko's is seventeen. Also, xabie's… back? Maybe. For a while at least.

--

One

Mikagami slipped into one of the only remaining seats in the noisy cafeteria. He had spent most of the time during the first week of school wandering around the university by himself, detached from the rest of his orientation group. Social interaction was never his forte, and he preferred exploring unchartered territory alone. Considering his preference for solitude, it was fortunate that he had been assigned a single dorm room. He tried to imagine living with someone, having to talk to that someone, and immediately felt suffocated. Already, being surrounded by so many chattering monkeys grated on his raw nerves.

He stared down at his tray of food, trying to block out the jabbering of the other students around him. He had just about regained his internal sense of peace, solitude, and equilibrium, and picked up his pair of chopsticks to eat when it was all shattered by a rude, vulgar, and _loud_ exclamation from someone opposite him.

"Oh _fuck!_"

Peace? Gone.

Solitude? Gone.

Sense of equilibrium? Gone.

Mikagami gripped his pair of chopsticks tightly and slowly raised his head. There would be carnage, he promised to himself. There would be revenge.

--

Kirisawa Fuuko was a changed woman. Indeed she was. She no longer considered herself stupid. She no longer considered herself ugly (though pretty was still a way aways). She no longer felt a deep pang of unidentified pain when she thought about herself. She no longer felt the need to forget her failure in violence.

No. Or wait, yes.

Kirisawa Fuuko was a changed woman. She was no longer vulgar; she was refined. She was no longer violent; she was demure. She was no longer untidy; she was as neat as any other gentlelady.

It was _not_, however, her fault when she sometimes reverted to her past self.

She was _not_ to be blamed if she let out an accidental curse word. So if she said the occasional (ahem) "shit", or "damn!" or "fuck" or "your mom's a number-licking shoe-whore!" it could be forgiven. Especially when it was because of the impossibility of the stupid number puzzle in front of her. Sudoku. Her downfall. Her Achilles heel.

'Okay. Think Fuuko. You're smart. So. The three goes into this box. And thus, the six goes into that box. Good good. All is well and good…Oh _fuck!_'

Not again. Not again! Those conniving puzzles! It was a bloody conspiracy. Definitely.

Eraser in hand, she set about not-so-violently eradicating at least an hour's worth of work from her little puzzle book.

"Ahem."

One little two little three little squigglies. Four little five little six little squigglies. She brushed the eraser dust away.

"_Ahem._"

Someone needed a cough drop. Defnitely. Hmm. Maybe she had one in her bag. She could offer one. She supposed. Or she could not.

"_Ahem Ahem!_"

Oh for crying out loud.

She glanced up irritably. And met a pair of similarly irritated eyes. Silvery-blue eyes. Silvery-blue eyes that were most definitely familiar. Because…

They belonged to a certain refrigerator.

There he was, the near-mythical creature, right opposite her with full disapproving aura and pinched-tight mouth: Mikagami Tokiya of long-lost status.

"…Mi-chan?"

--

There were a few things that Mikagami Tokiya considered constant in his world. One of them was that the sun would rise from the east and set in the west. Another would be his love for Mifuyu. And yet another would be the fact that the rest of his Hokage teammates would remain comfortably static and unchanging.

That would include Ishijima acting stupid, Hanabishi acting stupid, Yanagi being perfect, Ganko being whiny, Kaoru being a thirteen-year old brat, and Kirisawa having purple hair.

_Not_ pink.

But it was. Pink that is. Because no one else in this blasted place would have the gall to call him Mi-chan.

And there she was. Kirisawa Fuuko. With _pink_ hair. Sitting. Across from him. Kirisawa _bloody_ Fuuko. Perhaps the very_ last _person he expected to see.

Mikagami recovered his senses before he could prolong the feeling of being overtly stupid and slow. Not that he would ever admit to that, see, because Mikagami was definitely _not_ stupid or slow.

"Kirisawa. I had hoped that three years would have removed your propensity for vulgarities. Now I know my mistake. Monkeys never change. And, for the last time, refrain from calling me with unnecessary familiarity."

There. He thought smugly to himself. That was well-phrased, cutting, and to the point. Kirisawa would react according to plan. Get angry at his monkey remark, attack him… et cetera et cetera. It would allow him time to get accustomed to the fact that Kirisawa Fuuko, of pigheaded notoriety, would be attending the same university as he, the genius Mikagami. It stung, oh it stung indeed.

--

_Monkey?_ Who the hell was he calling a monkey!

'You bloody ice-block! Why I oughta!…!'

Kirisawa Fuuko reigned in her desire to punch the lights out of the arrogant, handsome (though that was hardly relevant), _childish, bastardly, EVIL, ARROGANT, DIABOLICAL ARROGANT,_ man in front of her.

Closing her eyes in affectation of blinking, she collected herself. When she opened her eyes she saw the tinge of confusion in his mesmerizing (though that too was hardly relevant) silver eyes.

Mi-chan was confused. She wanted to laugh. Mi-chan was confused and (the poor boy) was trying to cover it up! Confusion, she mused, was hardly a bad thing. Take herself, for example, not only did she not take steps to hide her confusion at most things, she reveled in it. She welcomed people to _join her_ in her confusion. It was a thing of _beauty_. Truly. Well. Maybe not. But it was fun anyway.

She flipped her sudoku book closed, scattering all her little eraser dust squigglies.

"Mi-chan, how nice to know that you too can make mistakes. Three years might not have changed me," 'like hell it hasn't,' she thought to herself, "but you are changed so much for the better! More than three words per opening… of uh your mouth? I applaud your bravery!"

She smiled sweetly.

'_YES. DING DING DING! _Round one goes to the beautiful Miss Kirisawa Fuukoooo!'

Yes. Victory was sweet. Almost as sweet as punching him to the stars. Almost.

But really though, where had he disappeared to three years ago? And why was he suddenly back? And why _here_? And why _her?_ Life was just too unfair. Maybe. Kinda.

Well, at least Mi-chan was fun. In a sense. And not too hard on the eyes. And smart. He could help her out with homework. And yeah… they used to be _friends_, darn it. They s_till were._ Three years couldn't, wouldn't change that. Even if he _had_ left without a word. But she would punish him for that… some other time.

--

**Notes**: I hoped you enjoyed that! I had a blast writing it. I hope you had a blast reading it.


	2. The Possibility of Two

Notes: Fuuko gets a little feisty, Mikagami gets a little slighted, and the end of their first meeting comes about. Also, Flame of Recca does not belong to me.

**The Possibility of Two **

Mikagami Tokiya looked at the pink-haired Kirisawa basking in what she perceived as her so-called success. He smirked.

Mistakes? He never made mistakes. And why was there now a rule that said he could not speak more than three words per, as she so quaintly put it, opening of his mouth? Was she implying that he was slipping?

He scoffed mentally.

Impossible!

Or was it?

Nahhhhh.

But _was_ it?

It worried him. He did openly mention that he made a mistake. How had that come to pass? How? He, the great Mikagami, admitting he had made a mistake? No matter how obvious the sarcasm? And to a monkey? A ridiculously bright-haired monkey?

And _And!_ Three words per opening of mouth! That rule! That golden rule! He had flouted it. Flouted the sacred rule.

He mulled over the consequences, the chattering of the surrounding hundred-strong students drowned out in the intensity of his worry.

If he was indeed slipping, then he would have to refrain from interacting too much with the monkey (whose appearance he _still _had to come to terms with) because it was obvious she was having a pernicious influence on him.

He analysed the situation.

Mikagami + Hokage Mikagami slowly turning into melty ice-man

Mikagami + orientation group Mikagami's success at remaining Mikagami

Mikagami + Kirisawa Mikagami slipping up

There was a pattern. There was indeed. At this rate, he realised, he would never regain his peace, solitude, and sense of equilibrium.

He leveled his gaze at Kirisawa.

"It is heartening to hear that you still have problems grasping the basic mechanics of self-expression. Some things never change."

He cast a hooded look at her puzzle book.

"Sudoku? Why, Kirisawa, I never imagined you would be interested in intellectual pursuits. How… surprising."

Aha!

Aha!

AHA!

If he were any less in control of his facial expressions, he would have laughed out loud.

Since that was not the case, he simply smirked.

And oh it felt good.

--

OOOOH. That _bastard._

Basic mechanics of _self-expression?_ He was one to talk!

"I—You little— Why I should— you're the one! Who— blahdr!" she spluttered disgracefully (even she had to admit it was disgraceful).

She grasped a lock of her pink hair and tugged at it. It was a habit she had developed when she was feeling… confused, or frazzled, or not particularly able to think clearly.

Typical! Abso-fucking-lutely typical! Of Mi-chan!

She wanted to thump him repeatedly on his head with her well-worn Sudoku book but restrained herself.

Instead she took in a few deep breaths and crossed her arms.

"Look, Mi-chan. _I'm_ not the one who spent most of my life masquerading as an ice-block. Don't talk to me about _self-expression_. You wouldn't know _self-expression_ if it hit you in the _face_ with its two-ton _ass_."

She leant back in her chair.

"And don't talk to me about my 'surprising' interest in intellectual pursuits. Because _you_ haven't even been around for _three years_. So don't _pretend_ to know what I'm interested in."

'_You don't have the right,'_ she wanted to say, but decided it was a little cruel even for what he did.

She stared sullenly at the man in across from her. Stupid Mi-chan. People _changed_. That's what they did. If he had expected the Hokage to put their lives on hold because he decided to split, then maybe he really wasn't as smart as they all thought he was, as _she_ thought he was. And frankly, that was a little disappointing.

In fact, that was even disappointing enough to lessen her burning curiosity regarding Mi-chan's mysterious disappearance. She didn't even want to know anymore.

She turned away from him huffily.

Stupid Mi-chan.

--

Mikagami scowled.

He actually scowled. Not mentally. Literally. As in, his muscles moved. In real life.

"Whatever. I don't need monkeys lecturing me."

And with that succinct dismissal, he went back to his now-cold food.

Screw Kirisawa. What did he care whether she was here or not anyway? Always chattering about, making noise, disturbing his peace, solitude and sense of equilibrium. The _sacred_ things; the things that _mattered_. As if he _cared_ that she was obviously angry at him. As if. As if he could give a _flying_ _fuck_ about her opinion of him.

Ice-block! Ha! He didn't need someone passing judgment on him every which way.

He had had enough of that. He didn't need a pink-haired circus freak doing that now.

--

Fuuko scowled back at Mikagami who did not notice.

"Whatever, Mi-chan."

She flipped open her Sudoku book and stared blankly at the eraser squigglies and the numbers that were starting to look more and more like the eraser squigglies. Her concentration was shot, obviously.

She didn't _care_. Obviously. About how he'd been. About where he'd gone. About why he'd left in the first place. Pfft. As if anyone would care. _No-one_ cared. Well okay that wasn't entirely true. Or at all.

But still. If _he_ obviously didn't care that he had abandoned them without a word then _she_ wouldn't care how he'd been.

That idiot, socially retarded, overbearing, _idiot_.

But still, they had been teammates. Friends even. For a while. _Still_ friends, kinda. They saved each others' _hides_. They had _depended_ on each other. They _trusted_ each other with their lives. With more than their lives.

You didn't just break that bond because the other person was too stupid to look past his own pride.

Well. Probably not anyway. Who knew?

Fuuko frowned at her fingers.

She curled her lips into a disapproving grimace. "Well."

She ripped out a page from her sudoku book and scribbled quickly on the back.

"This here is my dorm room number, my dorm hall, and my phone number. In case you wanna like meet up for coffee or something. Or catch up. You know… be a normal, sociable person who just met an old friend. Or something."

She shrugged, sliding the piece of paper over to Mikagami.

"I'll see you around, Mr. Ice princess."

And with that she left the table, Sudoku book tucked under her arm.

--

Mikagami looked at the paper. There were coincidences, and then there were _coincidences._

It looked as if the fates were mocking him. But he wasn't that maudlin. Or not maudlin enough to actually believe that. Or was he? Probably. Childhood trauma. That was his excuse.

He flicked a brief glance at the hastily scribbled note again – _Room 311, Huntington Hall, 601-4111 _– and put it in his pocket.

The Gods _had_ to be joking. They _had_ to be.

--

**Notes:** Ooh Mikagami gets owned! Somehow this chapter took a turn towards seriousness. I don't know how that happened!

Also… I don't want to sound shameless… but I've gotten around 80 hits for this chapter so far and only four reviews! The truth is authors like to know what readers think of the story; we don't like guessing if anyone's reading or not. It makes us a little nervous.

I'm not going to hold the story ransom but I am going to say that it doesn't take much time to press that little button! Make me a little happy yes?

Hope you enjoyed that chapter!


	3. Three's a Crowd

**Three's A Crowd**

Fuuko stood up and dusted off her palms. She hated unpacking and this was her second time unpacking in a span of a week. Changing rooms after the year had started had been a big hassle, but thankfully orientation had only just ended and classes were just beginning.

Fuuko sank down on her bed and sighed. Maybe she shouldn't have agreed to swap rooms after all… And now she didn't even have a roommate. She pouted. The girl she swapped with hadn't even mentioned that it was a single!

At least, though, she didn't need to sit around and make nice to her previous roommate. She had been driven up the wall. That girl was just… too much for Fuuko. Always that disapproving stare at her pink hair. Always talking about how her "boyf" was going to take her to Paris. Always buffing her nails. Always spraying the room with her noxious perfumes.

It took three days before Fuuko exploded.

After that, the girl stopped spraying her perfume around the room. She also stopped talking to Fuuko.

Oh well, there was no point thinking about that girl anyway. Then again… for someone as sociable as Fuuko having no roommate at all was almost worse. Almost. Almost, but not quite.

At least she would have neighbours. She hoped they were nice.

Fuuko was just about to leave her room and knock on a few doors, when her doorbell rang.

She opened the door to reveal a group of people.

"Hello… we're just planning a casual trip to Starbucks for the freshmen on this floor and wondered if you want to come along?"

A girl nudged the brown haired guy who was speaking. "Oh yeah… we're all freshmen on this floor anyway."

"It's just a casual thing… more like a get-to-know-each-other-better thing," the girl piped up.

Aha! Social interaction! And people who thought like her!

"I would love to!" Fuuko said, nodding her head vigorously.

"I'm Kirisawa Fuuko, by the way, but just call me Fuuko. Just give me a few minutes to get changed. I'll meet you guys by the stairs?"

--

'Yay, social interaction! Social interaction!' Fuuko thought to herself as she straightened up her shirt.

From behind the corner where the group had gathered she heard one of them mumble a little fearfully, "Do you think we should ask him?"

The brown-haired buy replied, "Well, I knocked on his door just now, and there was no reply…"

"Who're you talking about?" Fuuko asked in curiosity.

"Oh just this guy that lives next to you. He's not really very sociable. He's said no to every invitation out so far…"

She laughed, "Oh I know someone just like that!"

The girl smiled and replied, "Well, at least you'll have experience dealing with him then! But come on, let's head over before it gets too crowded."

The group trooped down the stairs.

--

Mikagami had no classes today and was wandering around one of the gardens southeast of his dorm building. He checked his watch. It read 3.20 pm. It had been an hour or so since Kirisawa had left the cafeteria. That was more than enough time for her to reach her dorm room and not meet him on the way in.

He began to head back.

There was a trellis against the wall under the last three windows of his dorm building. He had thought the viney things growing up under his window annoying at first, but now he was grateful that they was there.

Because trellises were not just useful for supporting creeping plants, they were, quite luckily for Mikagami, useful for climbing.

And Mikagami's room was the last down the hall, which made this convenient.

He checked to make sure the coast was clear, and then headed quickly to the part of the trellis directly underneath his window. He paused. Had he locked his window?

He hadn't. Thank the heavens. Who might still be mocking him.

And then he began to climb. It was not difficult, but Mikagami made slow progress because the trellis was rather unstable. Sneaking a glance down and around, Mikagami was relieved to see that no-one was around to see him scale the wall. It wasn't because he thought it was embarrassing, of course. No no, Mikagami did not care about things like that.

It was just… slightly odd.

When he made it to the top of the trellis, Mikagami swung one foot up on the window sill, brought one hand up to grip the edge of it, and pulled himself up quickly. He was now crouched against his window, on a five inch wide piece of concrete, about to break into his own dorm room. Marveling at the absurdity of the situation, as well as how he had gotten himself into it, Mikagami slid his window open and hopped onto his desk.

He was now safe. In more ways than one. He lay on his bed, and for the first time that day, relaxed.

--

Right Right.

Brown-haired boy was Kenji. And the girl who was next to him was Takako. Right. She could commit their names to memory. She liked them. They were nice, if a little boring. The rest of the group, sadly enough, reminded her of her previous roommate. In fact, the girl next to Fuuko even smelled a little like her. If she wasn't such a nice person Fuuko would even have said that the smell made her feel a little sick to her stomach.

"Hey, Fuuko-chan. I really love your bag."

"Oh. Thanks," Fuuko replied, feeling a little guilty. Okay. More than a little guilty. Maybe the girl wasn't as bad as she thought. She could be nice. She could make friends. After all, who was it that said not to judge uhm… something about books and covers? Oh whatever. But main point. Right. Be nice.

"But you know, I think it really clashes with your hair. It makes you look... hmmm kinda washed out."

Fuuko closed her eyes.

'Okay. Keep calm. She perhaps had a point. It was a perfectly valid point. Yes. Valid point. Pink and hmm hmm red. Yes yes. Calm Calm Calm…Screw it. That little – No. Calm, Fuuko. I am as calm and unmoving as a really stony stone. I am transcending the emotional realm. I am a sage tree.' Fuuko opened her eyes and smiled.

"A little pudgy too."

Okay. That did it. The gloves were off. It would not be Fuuko's fault if someone got hurt. Got _Seriously_ Hurt.

She stood up. "Oh my. I think I feel a little sick to my stomach." She sniffed the air. "Something smells a little off. A little like… hmmm dog shit." She sniffed pointedly at the girl next to her. "I better go. Have fun."

She smiled sweetly at Lina (she thought that was her name anyway). "I guess I'll be seeing you around, Lina. I mean, we're living opposite each other after all."

And then she turned to go.

"Bitch."

The word echoed a little despite the wind being rather strong.

Fuuko stopped in her tracks for a half second. Then continued. Whatever. They could call her whatever names they wanted. She didn't care.

--

notes: Sorry for the disappearance folks! I actually forgot what I had planned for this story but since I had written this out some time ago and people seemed to like the story I thought I'd post it up. Uhm the next chapter might be late in coming because, like I said, I've forgotten what was supposed to happen. Patience!


	4. Fourplay

**Fourplay**

Hey Biatches.

My name is Lina. And I am like, probably, the coolest Freshwoman girl thing that is like in this school, or something. I mean, I would know right? Cause like all the guys. Like literally, all the guys are like falling over their fat behinds trying to just talk to me. I mean, come on. Seriously. I know I'm hot. But guys? Try to control yourself.

Anyway, I am seriously PISSED off. Like totally. This little bitch, Fuuko whatsherface thinks she's like hot stuff. I mean, COME ON. Just because your hair is a sick shade of pink does not mean that you're hot. Or whatever. Seriously. What a loser. Insulting me in front of everyone else in a public place is so not cool. And anyway like she totally alienated everyone else by her totally uncool behaviour. And seriously, my perfume is like Hello? REALLY expensive. It's like you know, Dior, or something. She probably can't even afford it. I mean seriously. That bag of hers? Probably from some lame flea market. But don't even get me STARTED about what a fashion disaster she is.

Anyway, that was like a week ago. But seriously, my fans? She has just been getting more and more annoying! I mean okay, I thought she would like learn her lesson after all the freshies treated her kinda coldly after her completely VULGAR behaviour at Starbucks and like I dunno try to Pretend to apologise to me (and if she had I would have totally graciously like accepted) but noooo, that little bitch just completely acts as if she doesn't give a flying piss about it! Well whatever. She ignores me and I ignore her. (You know, I was actually like thinking of spraying my perfume under her door to annoy her but that would be like a TOTAL waste of money don't you think so? Whatev.)

What is seriously MORE annoying is that she's like totally shamelessly hanging onto that seriously cute hottie that lives next door to her. I mean seriously, how shameless is that! Such a cute guy should totally not be put at the mercy of such a shameless bitch! But the most ANNOYING thing about is like when I offered him my help to like get rid of that pest and you know, give him a chance to like spend some time with ME (seriously, how rare are chances like those) he totally like blew me off. LIKE Seriously? That guy is totally gay. My Gaydar says it's true. I mean please. My boobs? They turn gay man straight. He must totally be gayer than the gay. Seriouslyyyy. Whatev. They probably deserve each other. (Though, he's really too cute for her. What a waste of nature's gifts. Like, seriously.)

Well, Signing off but not taking clothes off until you buy me a drink,

Lina the awesome bina

---

He knew. Of _course_, he knew. Sooner or later she was going to find out. He had just hoped it would have been later. Much, much, much later.

And perhaps less weird.

"Uhm."

So. This was awkward.

"Wow…uhm this is kind of awkward."

Well duh.

Mikagami quickly ran through his range of possible expressions in his mind. He opted for the time-tested stony stare.

"Really? No shit."

She rolled her eyes at him and shifted her weight forward.

Bad idea.

Well.

Okay, _generally_ speaking, Mikagami usually thought it was a _good_ idea when curvy women fresh out of a shower wrapped in only a towel leaned forward towards him.

In this case, it was slightly… disturbing.

"Can you help me?"

"I never thought I would hear those words coming from Kirisawa Fuuko's lips."

He smirked at her, and leaned casually against the doorjamb.

She glared at him.

"I'm dripping onto your precious shoes, you dumb ice block. I'm sure they'll feel _really_ good when you put them on. Do you like that squishy feeling when all that water oozes between your toes? Heavenly, isn't it?"

His smirk turned into a scowl.

"Come in. Don't let anyone see you."

"Why," she smirked as she brushed past him and entered his room, "afraid of tarnishing your reputation by being seen with the dorm bitch?"

No, more like he didn't want to be the object of severe sexual envy from the dorm males. But she didn't need to know that.

He hmmed noncommittally.

"I just don't like to be seen with stupid people."

She whipped around with what he supposed was a ferocious expression on her face; the edge of her towel flew up just enough. Mikagami blinked.

_Peach-coloured thighs. Softness. Thighs. Softness. Peach. Soft peach. _

Okay. Deep breath.

Damn it.

Damn

Fuuko.

He turned around and closed the door.

"So. Why didn't you tell me you were my neighbour."

He knew it; the inevitable question.

He threw a glance back at her. She had her arms crossed beneath her breasts. He blinked.

Uh…

Uhm…

God. He was so pathetic.

"'Cause I knew this was going to happen," he delivered flatly.

"What? You knew I was going to be locked out of my room after a shower? Sense. Mikagami. Make some."

"No, you pink-haired monkey. Because I knew you were going to be banging –

_bad choice of words there_

on my door, being an annoyance."

She stared at him, her expression shuttered.

"Gee thanks, Mi-_chan_."

He sat down on his chair and swiveled to face her. "Don't mention it."

"Take a seat, why don't you? I'm not used to you towering over me. Though, that expression of yours, I must say, is rather familiar."

She threw him a sour look and glanced around his room. There were no other seats other than the one he had taken.

Well.

Besides the bed.

She rolled her eyes.

The bed creaked as she sat down on the edge.

"I suppose you need to call security and get them to open your door for you?" he asked with a condescending lift of his eyebrow.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Doesn't it hurt your brain when you do that? I mean, all that eyebrow lifting has got to have _some_ sort of side-effect."

She thought she was so funny. He remained expressionless.

"Oh you're a riot."

"I know," she smiled at him.

"4111."

"What?"

"I'm supposing the only reason you haven't picked up the phone to call security is because you don't know their number."

He paused. Then a thin smile spread across his lips.

"Unless, you actually _like_ being in my room wrapped in that towel."

"Bastard," she hissed, eyes narrowing into slits, "Pass me the phone."

"It's behind you; on the nightstand."

Fuuko twisted around to look.

…

Mikagami stared. It was illegal. It _had _to be. Wet towel. Against. Body. It… really should not be…uh…

"What?"

"Mi-chan. Where _were_ you? Stop being so spacey."

In heaven. Or hell. Depending on how you looked at the situation.

He scowled at her.

"Yeah, what?"

"I've called security. They'll be here in two minutes."

Two Minutes. He nodded. He could handle two minutes.

Fuuko twisted to replace the phone into its cradle.

Or maybe not.

"So where _did _you go? As in literally."

Just what he needed, tricky, emotionally-laden questions. No seriously. Just what he needed.

"Oh, you know, here, there…" He shrugged.

"Wow. That's helpful."

"What can I say," he shrugged again.

"Ookay."

Silence.

Mikagami rolled his eyes.

"We-ell."

Silence.

Mikagami exhaled through his nose. Not a sigh. An _indication_.

She whistled.

He turned to face her.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Being awkward. Oh wait. I don't think you can help that."

"You know, Mi-chan, when you left, we were really upset."

Mikagami stared at her toes. Her pink little toes digging deeper into the plush carpet he had bought at Target for a small fortune. Best buy, _ever_.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Sure."

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

Now, _that_ was an awkward question.

He pulled his gaze away from her toes and focused on her face. Face was a neutral location, right?

"Did you get thinner?"

Did he just… blurt? He did. He just _blurted_. How embarrassing.

Fuuko's eyebrows went all crinkly in confusion.

"I dunno? Maybe? What's that got to do with—I think they're coming! I hear them." Fuuko stood up.

Mikagami stood up.

He leveled unreadable gaze at her. She stared back at him. "What?"

"Wait."

He removed a coat that was hanging off the back of his chair and passed it to her.

"But that's… yours."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed."

Her lips parted. In _confusion_.

(but it was hard to tell his body that it was parted _in confusion_. parted lips were parted lips and parted lips...)

"You don't want those security guys to have strange ideas about you, now, do you?"

This was a true statement.

Even more truthful: _Mikagami_ didn't want to let those security guys have a free show.

Kirisawa smiled wryly and pulled the coat around her. "And you only give this to me now? Am I not supposed to be afraid that _you'll_ be having strange ideas about me?"

She was joking, right? Kirisawa could not have been so perceptive. No way, in flying hell.

She must have seen something in his eyes. Horror maybe. She hit him on the shoulder.

"Oh, come on, man, lighten up! I was joking."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh please. I've seen you in less. Remember?"

"Oh yeah, that fucker Fujimaru. I should have killed him!"

She smiled at him.

Mikagami raised his other eyebrow at her.

"I'll see you later then! Bye!"

He didn't respond to the closing door.

Yeah he should have killed Fujimaru. But all he wanted to do now was thank that fucker.

He glanced back at his bed. There was a damp spot where she was sitting. If he were a man more prone to emotional outburst he would have groaned. But he wasn't. So he didn't.

He stiffly sat down on his chair and tried to meditate. He sniffed the air.

Something smelled… like… peaches?

_Peach-coloured thighs. Softness. Thighs. Softness. Peach. Soft peach. _

He buried his head in his hands and groaned.

There was a long night ahead of him.

--

Notes: Mmm mmm. I love sexy-without-knowing-it Fuuko. And I love fighting-with-his-pervy-side Mi-chan. Ahh. Sexual Tension. Gotta love it! Also, I think I might love Lina. Enjoy!


	5. Breaking the Pattern

**Breaking the Pattern**

Midnight. The stars were out in full force. Beautiful.

All shattered by a single bloodcurdling scream.

Fuuko jerked awake. The silent echoes of the midnight scream curled away, but her ears still felt it. Fuuko hurried out of bed and pulled her robe on. Her spidey-sense was tingling. Someone was in danger.

Well. Okay, she knew _who_ was in danger. Miss Priss Wiss, Lina, from across the hall. There was no mistaking her "unique" voice. "Yeah, unique enough to deafen people," Fuuko grumbled under her breath.

Well, here she was: saviour of the world again. And she didn't even like the girl.

Fuuko cautiously opened her door and peeked out. There was no one in the hallway. But whoever attacked could have escaped through the window. If she hurried she could still maybe catch the intruder. Then again. That shriek did not augur well. She decided to check on Lina first to see if she was okay before chasing after some psychotic perverted puerile loser (probably) around the school campus.

"Hello, Lina?" Fuuko knocked on the door.

No answer.

"Helloooo! Lina, you little bitch. Is everything all right in there?" Fuuko curled her hand into a fist and pounded as hard as she could. This was going to hurt in the morning.

Still no response.

Fuuko was considering calling security ("4111," just like Mi-chan said) when the door swung open to reveal one of the most grotesque sights Fuuko had ever come across.

"Oh. My. God. Are you okay, Lina?" Fuuko's mouth was agape. Truth: she more or less hated the girl. But whoever did this to her deserved to pay. And pay _badly_. The girl's face was all blue. She must have been…

"Yes, of _course_ I'm alright, you dork. Like, _what_ are you doing pounding on the doorat this ungodly hour?"

Oh right. How could she have forgotten. Lina was a bitch.

"Uh… I heard a scream. And your face…"

"Ohmygawd, you really are like the dorkiest dorkster that walked God's green earth. This," Lina said, indicating her face, "is China's latest invention. It's pigeonpu facial masks. Tomorrow I'll wake up with amazing skin," she paused, "I can't believe you haven't heard of it."

"Right. Pigeon Poo Facial Masks."

"Yes. No, wait, no. Not Pigeon Poo, _pigeonpu_."

"Ookay. Well. I heard a scream. So I thought you were in… danger? Silly me." Fuuko's sour expression bounced harmlessly of Lina's pigeonpu-ed face.

"Oh that." Lina looked at Fuuko for a few seconds. "Well… it was rather… nice of you to check in on me (even though you interrupted my really relaxing pseudo-spa time) but oh what the hell, it's midnight, I'll make an exception. Come into my sacred haven, loser, cause like, I have something amazing to show you."

There really was no way to say no to Lina when she asked so politely, Fuuko thought to herself. Or maybe it was just the blue pigeonpu facial masks that had some weird power over her. In any case, Fuuko stepped into Lina's room.

Nothing happened. She gave a sigh of relief.

"What. You thought you were like, going to turn, pretty or something just by walking into my room? Ha. You gotta long way to go, loser!" Lina flicker her hair behind her shoulder and sauntered over to her bed.

Fuuko coughed. "Uh. Yeah. Something like that."

"Come over here, dork," Lina said, gesturing for Fuuko to follow. "_This_ is what made me scream."

Fuuko headed over to the object that Lina was holding in her hands.

"…a magazine?"

"Not just _any_ magazine. And not just _any_ page. God. What a caveman!" Lina sighed and rolled her eyes. "This guy, stupid, _this_ guy." Her manicured nail stabbed a half-page picture of an (admittedly) hot model.

"Uh… yeah, he's hot… I guess?"

If looks could kill, Fuuko would have burst into flames on the spot.

"He's not just hot, you bimbo. He's _mega_-hot. He's like _burning_ the page with his," Lina gesticulated wildly with her hands, "_hotness_."

Fuuko was not impressed. Yeah the guy was hot. Okay. So?

"You mean you screamed and woke me up at midnight because of a _two-dimensional_ picture of a hot guy?"

"No. I screamed because I _know_ this hot guy. I just don't know _who_ he is."

Fuuko blinked. Seriously. Lina was a level up from all the high-school bitches Fuuko had come across but sometimes she really made _very_ little sense.

"…what?"

Lina sighed and balanced her weight on her knees. "Like, I've _seen_ this dude before. Somewhere. Just _recently_, or something. It's like… _déjà vu_. You know: _fate_."

"_Déjà vu _does not mean fate— "

"You know," Lina sat up excitedly, almost toppling over, "I think he might even be in our school! I _have_ to find him. Fuuko,you take a look. Maybe you've, like, seen him before too?"

Fuuko looked at the magazine skeptically. Well, there was no harm in trying, she guessed.

Fuuko picked up the magazine and scrutinized the picture of the naked upper torso of Lina's dreamboat.

Okay, so the guy was hot. There was no denying that. So Lina had good taste in that department. But even a bat could tell that the guy was hot. And mm mmm he had a yummy chest. Hint of a nice flat tummy, too. His arms, now _there_ was a work of art. Muscular, toned, the arms of a… hmm tennis player, perhaps?

His face… was pretty. Mysterious. Half-closed eyes that seduced the camera. Short silver gray hair that was so meticulously styled it looked as if every strand were individually arranged. His bangs hung into his eyes. His nose was straight and no-nonsense. Not a roman nose, but not an ugly one. It was the lips, however, that made Fuuko pause before she passed model-boy off as another unattainable hottie who only existed on paper.

Cruel lips. Thin. Curled into a self-satisfied smirk. There was something awfully familiar about that smirk. Fuuko's eyes widened. There was something _awfully_ familiar about that smirk. In fact, she just saw it today. In fact, prior to three years ago, she saw it almost everyday. Her gaze went back to his arms. Not tennis-player's arms… no… she smiled an evil smile.

"Oi. Stop drooling onto my magazine! Do you, like, know him or not? Can you help me find him?" Lina glared at Fuuko.

"Hm… nope. Dunno him. Sure would like to, though." Fuuko shrugged.

"Useless. I can't believe I even invited you into my room." Lina rolled her eyes and flicked her hair behind her shoulders (again).

Fuuko smirked and twirled a strand of her pink hair around her finger. "Hey, here's something you can do."

"What? You have an idea?"

"Why don't you give me the magazine?"

Lina frowned. Fuuko imagined the one single gear grinding away in Lina's brain as she struggled to understand and suppressed and evil chuckle.

"Is that going to help me find the guy?"

Fuuko pretended to think. "Hmm. No."

Lina spread her hands out in front of her. "Then, no. Dorkster. _Duh_."

Fuuko smiled. Turnabout is fair play, after all. "Look Lina. We'll make a deal. You give me that magazine and I won't tell your faculty advisor that you stole my dormroom keys leaving me semi-naked in the hallway. If that goes on your record, I'm afraid they might make you ineligible to run for Class President…cess. "

Lina's mouth dropped open. "It's Class Queen, moron. And like, I have no idea what you are talking about!"

"Pigeon poo drips, Lina dearest," Fuuko faked a Lina-pout, "you poo-ed all over my carpet."

Lina scowled and thrust the magazine at Fuuko. "Take it, you bitch. Like I care."

"Thanks oodles!" Fuuko waved her fingers at Lina. She smiled down at the picture as she walked back to her room. This was shaping up to be the _best_ bad reason to be woken up at midnight _ever_.

---

Mikagami propped his head against his palm as he dozed in the lecture theatre. He hadn't slept well the night before. Disturbing dreams kept plaguing him but try as he might he couldn't recall what they had been about. And then there had been the strange scream in the middle of the night which had pulled him out of the only dream he could remember. But it was more like a memory that had resurfaced rather than a dream. There was Recca, Domon… and a confused looking Fuuko. Actually, fuck that. Confused-looking yeah sure. Naked. She was naked. The first time they had ever met. He had been hiding in the shadows observing Recca. But now his shifted the limelight to someone else.

He really had reason to murder Fujimaru now. And send thank you cards to Recca and Domon.

He raised his eyebrows. Wow. He had seen Kirisawa naked. And he had _forgotten_? No wonder everyone thought he was gay.

Well. It's not like he hadn't seen naked girls before (even if Fuuko had been the first naked girl he had laid his eyes on). Girls were girls. And naked girls were just girls… that were naked. And there really shouldn't be a reason why having seen, of all people, _Fuuko_ naked before should agitate him so much. He closed his eyes. Yup. She was just a monkey. Monkey. Monkey. Monkey.

Monkey. Monkey. Monkeys ate peaches.

Peaches!... Peaches?

"Hey!"

Mikagami opened his eyes. 'Oh no. No no no no.'

"Can't believe Mr. Genius is sleeping in class!" Fuuko had appeared before his eyes. And she most definitely did not look like a monkey. The gods had to be cruel.

"What are you doing here?" Mikagami scowled at her. Then his eyes dipped to her neck. Fuuko was wearing a modest polo.

There were buttons down the front. Five little buttons.

Two little buttons done up.

Which meant three little buttons undone.

Because five minus two equals three.

And modest polo with three buttons undone plus Fuuko's breasts equals cleavage and edge of a hot pink bra showing.

Oh. God.

Mikagami closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

Pink Bra.

"Well. I woke up late. Then I thought to myself. I think I know someone in my first class today! and then I thought to myself some more: Why, I think I'll make it my extra special mission of today to bother him!"

Cleavage.

Mikagami raised his eyebrows with his eyes closed.

"I love being an extra special mission."

Mikagami winced internally. That sounded so wrong.

Fuuko rolled her eyes and opened her backpack. "Oh please. So I did wake up late. But the only reason I'm sitting here is because this is the only seat left in the last row. So there!" And then she stuck her tongue at him.

Mikagami opened his eyes in time to catch a flicker of pink between her lips. 'Damn. The. Gods.' He clamped his eyelids shut again.

"The only reason why you're sitting here is because no one else could bear to sit next to you."

Fuuko paused. Then tilted her head and nodded. "True."

The bell rang. The professor thanked his dozing class and packed up his lecture materials; the students that were still conscious made their way out of the doors.

"What! You mean I rushed through my morning shower for _nothing_? And to think I ran all the way down here and got all sweaty again. This sucks!" Fuuko stuck her lower lip out.

_ morning shower. dripping wet. shower. wet hair. water droplets clinging. _

Mikagami swallowed. "Don't pout. It's not becoming."

Fuuko turned to face him. Her lips were so soft and plump and cushiony. _Oh please keep pouting_.

"Fine, Iceman. You're such an unfeeling nag." Fuuko flicked her hair at into his face.

_ Peaches_. _Thighs. Soft. Wet. Thighs. Cleavage. Sweat._

Fucking peaches.

He needed a cold shower.

---

Notes: Heya folks! Hope everyone is enjoying the story! I kinda remembered what I wanted to happen (well only one thing) but I'm getting new ideas for this fic. Hm… well. We'll see eh? Many thanks to the reviewers! Much appreciated!

Anon Reviewers…:

Yanagi-chyan: oh yes, sexual tension is completely the way to go! heh heh heh

kyusetsuki satsuki: Mi-chan is definitely a hot-blooded teen! Which makes things much more interesting for us fanficcers eh? haha


	6. Everything's Peachy!

**Everything's Peachy**!

Mikagami woke up from another unsettling dream. He groaned and craned his neck to look at the time on his alarm clock. 4.03 pm. Great. It wasn't set to go off for another half an hour. He needed his sleep, damnit.

A muffled thumping came from behind his door. Someone was knocking on it. So _that_ was the reason why he had woken up. So _there_ was the source of his misery. Sighing, Mikagami sat up and pushed off his covers only to realize that he had a little… problem. He buried his face in his hands. 'What is _wrong_ with me?' he grumbled to himself, and gazed down at his underpants, 'Or rather, my disobedient lower half.'

The muffled thumping grew louder and more intense. He supposed he could just pretend he was not in but judging from the way the mysterious and annoying visitor was pounding on his door, he didn't think the visitor would be giving up anytime soon.

And that thumping was starting to give him a headache. Which was the last thing he needed. The last thing he also needed was to answer the door in his underwear with a woody. Mikagami sighed. The pounding continued with increasing ferocity.

With great reluctance, he pictured Recca and Yanagi doing the deed and winced. Maybe he really was a masochist or something, he thought to himself. But it seemed to have worked, because junior down there went back to sleep. Smiling sourly to himself, he pulled an old t-shirt over his head and got up to answer the door.

---

Her hand was starting to sting a little but Kirisawa Fuuko was not a giver-upper. Nope. Especially since she _knew_ he was in his room. Sure, he could just continue to ignore the knocking on his door, but Fuuko knew, oh yes she knew, that Mi-chan prized his peace and quiet to a near obsessive degree, and it would just be sooner or later that he would open the door.

And then true to her expectations the door opened. 'Aha! I win,' she thought smugly, while doing mental boogies with an imaginary mirror image of herself.

And then she blinked. "Uhm… just get up from bed, Mi-chan?"

He leveled a hot gaze that promised pain at her and leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was in a ratty, almost translucent, old shirt and boxer shorts. Barring the picture, this was the least Fuuko had ever seen him dressed in. His shoulder-length hair was in a messy ponytail that failed to keep most of his hair up. There was a sleep crease across his cheek.

'Oh my god. How come I never realized that Mi-chan is _really hot_?' A blush blazed up Fuuko's neck as her eyes settled on the sunken junction of his collarbones. She swallowed.

"I should have guessed it would be you," Mi-chan said with a resigned huff. "Now, what do you want, Kirisawa?" He smirked at her. "Got locked out again?"

Fuuko rolled her eyes at him. Ever the grump-meister, he was.

"Nope, I just came to visit my most favourite friend in the dorm." She looked up into his face and smiled.

_Big_ mistake.

Mi-chan's silver eyes – and _that_ was as far as her thought went because she was sure that all her neurons had just short-circuited from just staring into his eyes. She quickly glanced away.

Mikagami slowly lifted his left eyebrow. "I'm your _only_ friend in the dorm. Possibly even the entire school."

Fuuko Kirisawa smiled evilly and automatically lifted her fist to give him a friendly punch. But the millisecond before her fist made contact with Mikagami she realized that she would be in contact with him (duh) andthat she would be, in other words, _touching _him. And that made her _really_ nervous. Which was retarded, she thought to herself. So she punched him lightly. Because of that decision she would forever remember the moment her skin felt the warmth of his shoulder. She blinked and quickly dropped her arm.

Mikagami remained leaning against the door.

"My, my," he smirked, "are we getting soft in our old age?" His smirk quickly disappeared and he frowned slightly. Which was odd. But Fuuko was accustomed to his strange mood swings and chalked it up to…well, Mikagami being Mikagami.

Fuuko placed her hands on her hips. "I'm just afraid that you'll break if I punch you too hard."

The skin on her knuckles tingled. She ignored it.

"Now, loser, like, let me in!" imitating Lina. She pouted. "Please?"

Mikagami blinked at her.

Fuuko burst out laughing. "Sorry, I spent a _whole_ half hour with her last night. She's a bad influence, that one."

"A _whole_ half hour with her? Please accept my condolences." Mi-chan stepped back and bowed sardonically. His arm swept back, inviting Fuuko to enter his room.

Fuuko raised an eyebrow. "Why thank you," she said primly and walked past him, "I must say, you're getting more and more polite by the day. It's almost unnerving."

Mikagami shrugged. "It amuses me to unnerve you."

Fuuko sank down onto his unmade bed. "I figured as much." Her knuckles tingled again. She cast a glance behind her. "Wow, you really just woke up, huh?"

"That's a stupid question, but I suppose stupid people really can't help themselves from asking stupid questions."

"Aww… don't be so harsh, Mi-chan. I was just you know… thinking aloud." She flipped onto her stomach and wriggled into his comforter. His comforter…smelled like…him. Fuuko pushed the thought away. But now that she was aware of the spicy smell that clung to the sheets, the comforter, and now _herself_, she couldn't be rid of the thought that Mi-chan had just been sleeping in this very spot. Three degrees of separation. She brushed her hands against the gray, cotton, no-nonsense sheets. With a little imagination, it would almost be like touching him.

Fuuko froze. That was a strange thought to be having about an old friend. She pulled her hand back quickly and tucked it under her chin.

Mikagami sat down at his desk and swung his study chair around to face Fuuko.

"What _do_ you want, Kirisawa?"

"Oh… you know the usual. Crispy tempura. A pair of cool shoes. Bigger boobs. Oh. And world domination."

Mikagami rolled his eyes. "Oh please. We both know you don't need a bigger chest. Though, that world domination thing… I'm not sure if you can handle that either." He smirked. "Don't you need a reasonable amount of intelligence for that?"

"Hardy har har."

Fuuko snuck a peek at her chest. She didn't need bigger boobs? Mi-chan thought that? Really? Did that mean Mi-chan noticed her boobs? Did it mean he thought her boobs were big? She paused in her train of thought. And why was she asking so many questions based on a simple, offhand remark? Weird. That was totally weird. But she looked at her boobs again. Did he _like_ her boobs then?

"Ahem."

Oops.

Well. That was slightly embarrassing. Caught checking out one's own boobs. Surely that was considered a social gaffe in certain circles.

Time to distract him from her strange behaviour and maybe get to the real reason for why she popped by for a visit. She looked up from her boobs and nonchalantly flipped onto her back.

"Heyyy… Mi-chan. I'll ask you nicely one last time. Where did you go those three years?"

"And if I don't answer?" Mi-chan's head suddenly appeared an inch above hers. A strand of his hair dislodged from behind his ear and tickled her cheek. Her knuckles tingled.

She stared up at him. "I'll have to punish you."

He leaned closer. She watched his lips move but his words didn't sink in until a few seconds later. She swallowed hard.

"Never thought you were the kinky type."

Fuuko's arms and legs were definitely melting into the bed. Or something. Because she couldn't move them. She shrugged her shoulder.

"Well, you know. College." She stammered out. "All that jazz."

And suddenly he was gone. Probably went back to his desk or something.

"Sense, Fuuko," she could hear the smirk in his voice as he threw her words back at her, "Make some."

Inner-Fuuko smacked herself; it wasn't like her to be so tongue-tied. "It was a joke… Aren't college girls supposed to be into kinky stuff? I was linking the two."

"Perpetuating stereotypes, you mean?"

Fuuko closed her eyes. "If you try and use another pompous word like that again –"

"You'll what?... _Punish_ me?"

Fuuko looked at Mikagami. He was smirking so much it was almost like he was smiling. That was it. He was having _way_ too much fun at her expense.

She smiled at him. "Maybe."

Mikagami tilted his head to the side. "I'd like to see you try."

Fuuko flipped back onto her stomach and shifted onto her elbows. "Okay. Since you're not telling me what you did in those three years… I guess I will."

"You'll what?"

A smirk. "Punish you of course."

---

Mikagami tore his eyes away from Fuuko's cleavage. That girl was really too unaware of her own body for her own good. _Anyone_ with half a pound of common sense would know that lying in a position like hers was akin to giving even a washboard a decent amount of cleavage. Not to mention that Kirisawa was definitely _not_ a washboard. Far from it. He sighed internally. Didn't the damn girl watch _Erin_ _Brokovich_?

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again a few seconds later, he was greeted by the sight of Kirisawa lifting up her shirt.

Holy.

Crap.

He needed to close his eyes. But for some reason his eyes were not listening. 'This has to be some kind of twisted dream fantasy.' Mikagami bit the inside of his cheek. If this was Fuuko's idea of punishment, Mikagami thought, he had a vague feeling he might be misconstrued as a masochist.

Fuuko stopped lifting up her shirt. He could see a slice of smooth, tanned skin that showed off her flat stomach pressed against his innocent bedsheets. Not so innocent anymore. Those lucky, lucky bedsheets.

"Take a look at this!"

Mikagami finally managed to close his eyes. 'Please not let her know how her words have just been misinterpreted by my libido. Please.'

Mikagami opened his eyes. She was waving around… a magazine? Was she taking that from under her shirt? He frowned. Who the hell kept things under their shirts? That was a dumb question, Mikagami thought to himself. Obviously, _Kirisawa Fuuko_ hid things under her shirt. And when she had need of them she had to take them out from under her shirt. Which meant that she would have to lift her shirt

to reveal _tanned smooth skin against gray cotton peach soft legs pressed against _

Mikagami shook his head. Right. Magazine.

"A magazine? How… torturous."

A scary smile spread across the Fuuko's face. "Now now, don't be so condescending. I'm sure you'll be _very_ interested in the contents." She flipped the magazine open and placed it on the bed so that it faced him.

Mikagami leaned forward and cast a cursory look at the page she was holding out to him. And did a double-take. He cursed the gods.

"So. Let me ask you again, Mi-chan. What _did_ you do in those three years?" She smiled at him.

His lips twisted into a scowl. "I was working."

"So I see." She grinned.

"Are you going to tell anyone? I would like to be prepared before Lina and her fanclub start to break down the walls of my dorm room." Mikagami was _so_ not looking forwards to that prospect. In fact, he almost felt his heart sink a few centimeters.

She looked at him. And then the edges of her lips quirked up in an almost-feral smile. He swallowed.

With a sudden decisiveness she flipped the magazine shut and hopped off his bed. In a flash she was next to him. "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret," she breathed into his ear. Mikagami had to stop himself from shivering.

And then she was opening the door and shutting it. "Ta, Mi-chan!"

He looked at his now even messier bed. He wondered if it would smell like peaches.

Sinking down by his pillow, Mikagami fell onto his back. And then he buried his face in his comforter and breathed deeply.

_Peaches_.

Fucking _Peaches_!

---

Notes: Oh my dearest Mi-chan. You amuse me so! Fuuko, good job! Put your assets to good use! (though storing things under your shirt is definitely bizarre).

I love how Fuuko was clueless when Mi-chan reacted to his usage of the word Soft. Ah… teenage lust.

More Notes: Hey guys, I've written Chapter 7 already but it is really crappy, so please bear with me while edit it; it will take some time as I'm taking really heavy classes this semester; I might die; but the next chapter will be up. I promise. It'll just take a while.

Anon Reviewers…:

abubi-chan: thank you so much! hehe yes, sexual tension is probably my most favourite thing ever!

Kyusetsuki satsuki: aww… poor mi-chan –pets him-

Peppercorn: Thank you! I think I just like putting them in awkward/amusing situations… hehehe

Yanagi-Chyan: thank you! I might make a lemon… I might not; if I do, it will probably be posted as a separate-fic… yay for sexual tension!

Shen-Hui: Hehe… thank you for reading! well, Fuuko is innocent, ne… or maybe not? we'll see… we'll see!


	7. Blackmail

**Blackmail**

"Blahblahblahblahblahblahdyblah."

Fuuko closed her eyes and tuned out the droning of her Chemistry Professor. _So_ boring. She didn't even know why she was taking the class. Oh wait. She did. It was a pre-requisite for Biology 207. The only class she really wanted to take… _ever_.

She opened her eyes slightly and snuck a peek at the silver-haired male next to her. The only thing good about taking this class was that Mi-chan was in it with her. At the moment, Mi-chan looked just as bored as she was feeling, leaning back against the chair and tapping the edge of his table with his pen.

Fuuko sighed and tried to re-focus on Professor Blahdyblah.

"And so… this nucleophilic substitution reaction… is one… in which… the hydroxyl group attacks the slightly positive carbonyl group… here… and as you can see… the blahdyblahblah blah blahdy blah….blah blah…"

Fuukoed huffed. It was _useless_. His voice grated so much that she imagined that her ear drums were raw and maybe even _bleeding._

"Hey, Mi-chan…" Fuuko whispered.

Mikagami's gaze slid towards her. Then he looked back at his table and steadily ignored her.

Fuuko pouted and crossed her arms. What a poophead. Ignoring her like that. She just wanted to know what time it was.

"Blahdyblahblahboobooblahblehbladhy blah… project… blah… build a three dimensional model using… blahdy blah…must look professional… will take 40 of your final grade. You may choose to work in pairs or alone…blah."

Fuuko sat up straight in her seat. What? A major project? About _what_, exactly? Fuuko sighed. She probably should have listened in class today. Shaking her head sadly, she thought to herself, 'Forty Percent of my grade…and now it looks like I'm probably gonna flunk it…'

Then an idea struck her. A good idea. She snuck a furtive look under her lashes at the man next to her. She was probably gonna bomb the project…_Unless…_

---

To most people, Mikagami would have looked like he was sound asleep.

But it was all an act (except for the times when he really was asleep).

Mikagami observed the girl next to him carefully from the corner of his slitted eyes; ever since the mumbly Professor had mentioned the Project, Fuuko's aura had changed. Mikagami felt himself grow slightly nervous at the oddly menacing aura that Fuuko was giving off. He berated himself for being silly. Fuuko was probably just angry that she wasn't going to do particularly well in this class, he told himself. Didn't she say she needed to get at least a B to get into another class she liked? It was probably just simple frustration at her own ineptitude.

Still.

The strange curve of her lips that was most definitely _not_ a smile was really kinda _creepy_. Mikagami tried to ignore it. But he was disturbed. There was no denying it. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

She was definitely up to something. And he had a feeling he had better run far far _far_ away if he wanted to escape her clutches.

But when class ended and Mikagami was trying to casually ease away from Fuuko, all that happened was Fuuko cheerfully waving goodbye and walking away from him.

The girl was strange. Very strange.

Then his eyes dropped down to her butt.

She had a perky butt, he noticed.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath and tried to pretend he hadn't just burned the image of Fuuko's posterior into his brain.

Maybe _he _was the strange one, after all, not Fuuko.

---

Fuuko nearly skipped out of her room, such was her happiness. It was _great_ having Mi-chan in her least favourite class! Most absolutely great! Fuuko laughed to herself.

She stopped in front of Mikagami's door and lifted her hand.

The door opened.

"Uh…?"

Fuuko blinked.

Mikagami was wrapped in a towel. And nothing else.

Fuuko's mind remained blissfully blank as she absorbed the sight.

"Why do you _insist_ on creating the most awkward situations, Kirisawa?"

Mikagami's grip on his shower caddy tightened dangerously. Fuuko could tell from the grim line of his lips that Mikagami was not happy with her.

But it wasn't her fault! Cosmic coincidence dictated that this "incident" would happen!

(_Nevermind the fact that she had been kind of waiting for this moment ever since she knew they were living next to each other. Nope. Nothing to do with that.)_

Fuuko dragged her eyes away from Mikagami's abdomen.

"Uh… sorry?"

Mikagami raised a thin eyebrow skeptically. "Right. I'm sure you are."

Fuuko almost physically assaulted him, but stopped herself in time. "What? Are you trying to imply that I _want_ to see you half-naked in a towel? As if! In fact, I'm feeling rather nauseous right now."

Mikagami smirked. "Right. And yet five seconds ago you were ogling my chest. How…Interesting."

Heat burned up Fuuko's neck and warmed her cheeks. "I-I-I…was _not!_"

"Uh-huh."

"I wasn't!" Fuuko stomped her foot and placed her hands on her hips angrily. She focused on his face (_cause that was way safer_) and glared at him.

Mikagami steadily met her gaze and smirked. "If you're so disgusted by my state of undress, why aren't you _leaving_?"

Damn. Logic.

Fuuko rolled her eyes. Her cheeks were burning but she ignored it.

"I will... Soon. But right now, I have a proposition for you."

Mikagami raised both his eyebrows and leaned against the doorjamb. "Do you know how that sounds, considering the situation?" His voice was slow and deliberate; his gaze quickly gave Fuuko a once-over.

If Fuuko could blush anymore she would have broken a record. She grit her teeth in determination. It was an unfortunate choice of words, and she obviously hadn't been thinking, but since she had said it, she wasn't going to take it back. She continued the only way she knew how; by ignoring all the obstacles and crashing forwards.

"Wanna do our Chemistry Project together?"

"No."

Fuuko's jaw dropped. What? Okay, so she had been kinda expecting this answer; but _still_! The least he could do was pretend to consider it!

"Now, if you'll excuse me…" Mikagami pursed his lips and made as if he wanted to move past her.

Fuuko blocked his way and scowled at him. Mikagami glared back at her.

"You know, I think this must be some elaborate ploy of yours to keep me half-naked in my towel for as long as possible," Mikagami said, smirking, but Fuuko could tell he wasn't really amused by her antics.

Well _too_ bad!

If he would just cooperate, he could get fully naked in the shower like he obviously wanted to! Fuuko's mind paused at that image—Mikagami taking off his towel, Mikagami in the shower with water sluicing off his chest, Mikagami's head leaning back, Mikagami's mouth parted in untold enjoyment of the warm water massaging his shoulders, Mikagami's back muscles, Mikagami turning around with a pleasantly surprised look on his face, Mikagami pulling her into his shower, Mikagami trapping her in the shower as he—

'Oh. My. God. What. Is. Wrong. With. Me.'

Fuuko's slapped herself.

---

Kirisawa Fuuko was the strangest girl he had ever met in his life. Well. Maybe a few of the Uruha could give her a run for her money, but that was besides the point.

The _point_ was that angry Fuuko was in the middle of a tirade when she suddenly paused, looked shocked, and _slapped_ herself.

It was… _really_ weird.

Mikagami frowned at her. He hoped she wasn't going through some kind of mental breakdown because then it would be so _troublesom_ehaving to bring her to the mental health services and he _still_ needed to shower.

God. When was she going to let him just _take a goddamn shower!_

Fuuko shook her head slowly and squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands went up to her head and clawed at her hair.

This was really _really_ bizarre. Mikagami lifted his left hand and placed it on Fuuko's shoulder. Then he shook it. Hard.

"Ow- Hey Hey!- Stop that! You maniac!" Fuuko's eyes popped open as she struggled out of Mikagami's vice grip.

"I was just trying to shake you out of your stupor. Weirdo."

Mikagami really wanted to take his shower. There was a draft in the hallway and it was _cold_ just in his towel. And… well. The longer he stayed half-naked in his towel, the higher the possibility of him imagining Fuuko in _her_ towel as she sashayed towards him with a seductive smirk and breathed into his ear while her left hand went to the edge of her towel to slowly pull it down and her right hand went to the back of his neck making all the little hairs on his body stand to attention and then she would pull the towel down to reveal—

Mikagami swallowed hard and tried to think about Recca and Domon in Bikinis. Recca and Domon in a Bikini.

Recca and Domon in a Bikini. Not Fuuko. No – don't think of Fuuko in a skimpy, hot pink Bikini. _Recca_. And _Domon_. in a Bikini.

Recca and Domon in a Bikini.

Recca and Domon in a Bikini.

"Recca and Domon in a Bikini."

Mikagami frowned. He… had just said that aloud.

Fuuko gazed up at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You just said "Recca and Domon in a Bikini"… didn't you?" Fuuko looked confused, but at least she wasn't clawing her hair out anymore. If it was one thing he liked less than being around Fuuko it would probably be being around a patchy-headed Fuuko. Not that he liked her hair. Which was pink. And really silky. And smelled of peaches. Which was why he totally _did not_ like her hair. _At all._

Uh huh.

"No."

"…right…"

"Look. I really want to shower now. Go away." Mikagami decided it was time to stop playing around and just get his shower (which would now have to be ice-cold… _again_).

"Okay." Fuuko shrugged and stepped aside.

What? That was it? This was way too easy.

Mikagami brushed past her and gave her a suspicious look. Fuuko was looking at her nails and whistling the theme song to "I'm a Pirrrate and you are not!" Strange. But he continued down the hall and was about halfway to the showers when he head Fuuko call out to him.

"Mi-chan!"

Mikagami sighed and looked over his shoulder.

Fuuko was smirking at him.

"If you don't work with me for the Chemistry Project, I might accidentally get really drunk (when I try to drink away my depression, you know) and tell Lina things I really probably shouldn't…"

She shrugged her left shoulder and twirled a strand of her pink hair. The picture of innocence. _Not._

Mikagami scowled at her.

"I hate you."

Fuuko laughed and turned back to her room. "You know you love me!"

Mikagami's eyes watched her retreating figure and his eyes dropped down to her butt again. All that fight-training in High School was good for something besides saving the world then… like having a really nice butt.

Mikagami groaned, pivoted sharply on his heel, and walked faster than he had ever walked before to the shower.

---

**Author's Note: **Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the long wait; but I got it up right? I'm still trying to finish chapter 8 which I'm enjoying writing. It will come… just… slowly; I'm sorry! But that's just the kind of fanfiction writer person thing I am!

Leave a review! It makes me happy and motivates me to update… eventually!

Also: many thanks to all my reviewers! I'm going to skip individual replies for the sake of getting this up sooner!


	8. Going to Sleep

**Notes: My favorite chapter so far. Enjoy! FoR does not belong to me!**

**---**

**Going to Sleep**

Fuuko closed her eyes in anticipation as Mikagami bent close to her, expression intense, and tried not to shake. She gulped. This was the moment. This was the moment that they would finally be

"done." Mikagami said hollowly. He pulled his quivering hand away and looked at the last piece of the model as it set into the bubble of glue. Fuuko stared down at their project cradled lovingly in her hands. Twenty-three hours of her life. Cradled in her hands.

"I think I've forgotten how it feels be alive, Mi-chan." She stared emptily at him.

Mikagami had rolled onto his bed and was staring at the ceiling. "I'm tired."

"I smell disgusting." Fuuko sniffed at herself. "This has probably been the most trying experience of my life."

"It's your fault."

Fuuko frowned angrily. "Why is it my fault?"

"If you hadn't waited till a day before the deadline to get started on the project we wouldn't have had to pull this panicked all-nighter, now, would we?"

This was true.

"Well! If you hadn't been so busy doing OTHER things, I wouldn't have had to put it off to the last day to do it now would I?"

This was also true.

"I'm tired."

Fuuko pouted. "So am I. I want to lie down."

"Lie on the floor."

"The floor is cold!" Fuuko placed the model at her feet and slouched down on the floor.

"Too bad. Go back to your room them."

"Don't wanna."

"Then stop whining."

"I'm not whining!"

"You _are_ whining."

"Am _not_."

Silence. Then –

"I refuse to be dragged down to you maturity level."

Silence. Then –

"Fine. Then you'll just have to deal with it."

Silence again. Then –

"Deal with what?" But before Mikagami could get the entire question out, Fuuko had already crawled into his bed and was snuggling down between Mikagami's no-nonsense heather grey bedspread and duvet.

"What. The. Hell? Kirasawa – get out of my bed. Now."

But Fuuko was not going to relinquish the soft mattress for the cold floor. No way. Not in a million years. Even if it _was_ a little crowded in Mi-chan's single bed. "Nuh-uh. The floor is cold and my room is too far away. And I'm tired. _And_ you told me to deal with it so I'm dealing with it." Fuuko curled into a ball with her back to Mi-chan's side and mumbled into his pillow.

His pillow had a nice smell – spicy and male and very…_Mi-chan_. But that wasn't why she liked the smell – nah. She just, you know, liked it. 'Sure…,' a doubting voice from the back of her mind called out. Whatever. She silenced the taunting voice. Fuuko was tired – she could like whatever the hell she liked and there would be _no_ implications about her feelings towards her old teammate– or lack thereof.

Yup. No feelings at all.

Fuuko yawned. Then mumbled sleepily, "Your pillow smells sexy."

'Oh shit.'

She stiffened in mortification. She was _horrifically_ _embarrassed_.

'What the hell did I just say?'

Of all the idiotic, _thoughtless_, things to blurt out! She had to blurt _that _out She would never, ever, _ever_, be able to face Mi-chan again.

She braced herself. She didn't know what to expect – getting kicked out of his bed? Possibly. Getting the cold shoulder? Very likely. Getting a freakin' tongue lashing –

–_ooh, tongue-lashing with Mi-chan's talented tongue_—

Her eyes widened in absolute horror. She was going crazy. She knew it. She was officially insane. She had gone round the bend. _And_ she was a pervert. Her life was over.

She waited for the blade to fall and for her head to roll. She held her breath – and waited.

--

Mikagami scowled sleepily. It was too crowded in his single bed.

(_not that I'm complaining – my entire side is tingling from the warmth of her back—whatever that means)_

The silver-haired man lazily debated between physically kicking her out of his bed or verbally abusing her till she just upped and left. But both options took too much energy, and he was _tired_. Too tired.

'Freakin' chemistry.'

Fuuko shifted around as she burrowed into his blanket and Mikagami tried to pretend that he did not like the feeling of her body moving against his. He pressed his lips together and turned his head to face the wall. It was just too damn_ crowded_.

He could feel her _every_ movement.

Which left little to the imagination. What little that _was_ left was running _absolutely_ havoc. And was definitely not PG-13.

Mikagami swallowed hard.

He was…_tired_, tired of fighting his own brain. He closed his eyes. Appearing from the darkness was Fuuko in his bed – but not sleeping, oh no, anything but that in fact; her half-closed eyes and parted pink lips; her perfectly bare shoulders; her hand clenching his tangled bedspread; she arches her back, the blanket slips further down, revealing soft, soft skin, her eyelids close, she says –

"Your pillow smells sexy."

Mikagami's brain stopped functioning. All the blood in his head rushed elsewhere.

What the hell did she just say?

What the hell?

What?

His eyes popped open and he tried to sneak a peek at the pink-haired woman sleeping next him without having to move a single muscle. All he could see, however, was her unbelievably pink hair splayed out on his pillow.

(_this image was stored in his brain – for later ruminations)_

Her breathing was deep and steady – all signs indicated that she was asleep. Which either meant that he had imagined it all or that she was sleeping-talking. In either case, he could just ignore it. Which was definitely easy, right? Because it didn't mean anything – it couldn't have. Nope. Meaningless. And definitely not causing him to be aroused. It was just a silly offhand remark which meant absolutely _nothing_ to him. Just… put it out of your head, he told himself. As easy as that. Just dismiss it from your memory. Forever.

_your pillow smells sexy_

_mi-chan_

_your pillow smells sexy, mi-chan_

_your pillow smells sexy_

_your pillow smells sexy, she arches her back and her eyes are slits and she moves slowly in his bed and _

Mikagami bit hard on his inner cheek and tasted the faintly metallic taste of blood. Enough is enough, he thought to himself. He closed his eyes and with much effort thought of _nothing_ at all. _Nothing._ _Nothing at all. _

_Right._

--

The fresh light of the morning sun woke her up from a sweet, but forgotten dream. Fuuko smiled sleepily into the pillow and inhaled deeply – there was nothing like waking up refreshed after a good night's sleep; the spicy smell of her pillow tickled her nose and a feeling of contentment sank into her chest. She was so very comfortable in bed – in fact, she thought to herself, she could probably stay in bed all day – if only whatever was tickling the back of her neck would stop it – then she could maybe go back to sleep.

Wait.

Hold on _one_ second, Kirisawa.

'Where the hell am I?'

And then the feeling of satisfaction evaporated from her pores.

She was still lying on her side, but now she was suddenly aware of something heavy draped across her waist. Carefully cracking her eyelids open (and being very particular about keeping her breathing rhythm as per normal) she slid her gaze down to where she felt the weight was.

It was an arm. A forearm. A very nice-looking, sculpted forearm. This very nice forearm was attached to Mi-chan.

Mi-chan's arm was draped across the waist.

Fuuko flushed a deep shade of red, remembering what she had blurted out the night before.

'_Your pillow smells sexy.'_

After she had said that, she had waited. And waited. And _waited_ for him to respond, but he hadn't and then she had fallen asleep.

And _now_. She was in his bed. With his arm around her waist.

Which didn't mean _anything_, of course. People moved around a lot in their sleep, you know, flinging their arms about. Fuuko did not have a doubt that Mi-chan had not put his arm there on purpose. She just… was… you know… well.

It was just an _interesting_ sensation, that's all. It wasn't _bad_, no, just… well actually it was kinda nice.

But it was also kinda… odd. So with a sigh, she picked up his hand carefully and placed it behind her. So that it was _not _touching her.

She lay there for a while and let out a breath in relief – though, she was feeling a strange sense of loss now that his arm was gone; in fact, her waist was quite cold and sad to say, she missed the strength of his arm on her body.

She twisted her lips in disgust. She was such a _pathetic_ specimen of a female! Craving a man's touch just for the sake of it! Pathetic!

Closing her eyes determinedly, she carefully tried to slide out of the bed without waking Mi-chan. She was almost out of the bed when, unfortunately for Fuuko, this plan was foiled by the appearance of a strong arm that snaked around her waist and pulled her back into the warm bed.

From somewhere behind her, Fuuko heard Mi-chan mumble sleepily.

'Don't go."

Fuuko froze.

What?

What what?

What what _what just happened?_

She slowly turned her head over her shoulder. And realized what was tickling the back of her neck.

Mi-chan was lying on his side, asleep. His forehead was so close to her (now-turned) face that if she were to move another inch, he would be waking up to her kiss. It was his messy hair that was caressing the back of her neck, and Fuuko allowed herself a small smile. 'I guess even Mi-chan has bed hair,' she thought. Her gaze followed the regal line of his forehead to his eyelashes that were nestled softly on his cheek. His nose was straight and strong. When he was asleep, Mi-chan was as heartbreakingly handsome as he was awake, but there was something different about him that Fuuko couldn't quite put her finger on.

It took her a long time to pinpoint exactly what was arresting her attention, but it finally struck her that his face was not wearing the customary blankness that she was so used to seeing. Quite the opposite, in fact.

His forehead was creased as if he was thinking and his lips moved, but there was no sound. Then his forehead smoothened out and his lips curled at the edges into what was definitely a small smile. (_Fuuko memorized this rare occasion for later)_. He nodded his head and parted his lips, and then closed them. His eyebrows hoisted themselves up and he wrinkled his nose.

Fuuko watched, fascinated. His face was so… expressive. Who would have thought! But judging from his sleeping habits, Mi-chan was definitely a sleep-talker (probably a sleep-walker too). At any rate, Mi-chan definitely moved a lot when he was sleeping. Which explained his arm around her waist. And the fact that he was holding her close to him.

"Don't go…"

Mikagami mumbled again and tightened his grip around Fuuko's waist, drawing her body closer to his. Fuuko let out a small gasp; she was stuck. She wiggled around, trying to break free from his grasp, but all it did was make the sleeping Mi-chan hold her even tighter.

"Don't go." He mumbled soft and drew his eyebrows together.

Fuuko wondered who he was dreaming about. Probably some stupid girl model he had met during his modeling days. She felt a faint stab of jealousy. He was probably dreaming about holding her close to him. Her eyes widened. Maybe this girl was his girlfriend? Urgh! Idiot Mi-chan! Using her as a substitute (even unconsciously) was _not_ cool. She considered kicking him awake. But then thought better of it. If she kicked him and he woke up, then they would both be awake at the same time, and that would just be awkward beyond belief.

Yes, best to just go back to bed and let Mi-chan deal with it when he woke up before her.

She closed her eyes and pretended that the tight hold Mi-chan had on her waist was _not_ comforting. Not comforting at all.

Soon, sleep consumed her.

--

Mikagami dreamt of soft peaches; he grasped one in his palm, but there were too many and he began to drown in them. They rolled around and moved against his chest. He didn't mind though – they smelt so good and were _so_ very soft.

He was awoken from this dream by a sort of purring sound. Was there a cat in his room? he thought sleepily.

Lazily opening his eyes, all he saw for a moment was the colour of pink silk reflecting the mid-morning sunlight.

_Pretty._

His eyes drifted close.

_I guess I must have accidentally used the pink bedsheets…_ Mikagami made a mental note to use them more often, regardless of what it might say about his masculinity.

Mikagami let himself drift back to sleep, until a startling thought crossed his mind.

'I don't have pink bedsheets.'

His eyelids burst apart. If there had been anyone watching, they might have described Mikagami's expression as somewhat… "bug-eyed"; luckily for him, there was no one around.

Well. Except for one other person.

Fuuko.

The events of the night before rushed back to him, and Mikagami felt his mouth dry. She had said something… No, no. She had said _nothing_.

But what was going on right, _now_? He needed to know.

Her pink hair was obstructing his vision so he resorted to his other senses to get his bearings.

He sniffed the air.

Fuuko smelled like… freshly picked fruit. It was a nice smell. 'It must be her shampoo,' he thought to himself.

The sound of her calm breathing filled his ears. Occasionally she made a purring sound from the back of her throat. Mikagami's lips twitched in amusement – how fitting that she would sound like a cat in her sleep, he thought to himself.

But wait… something felt odd.

His hand… where was it?

He wriggled his fingers for a moment, trying to locate them. And then was horror-struck.

His hand was firmly placed on her warm and flat tummy. Mikagami's mouth dropped open.

What. Was. His. Hand. Doing. There !!!

More importantly, however, what would she do to him if she ever found out that his hand was _anywhere_ on her body? He felt a tingle of fear run up his spine.

And then she moved, as if merely thinking about her called her back from the land of slumber.

'Oh god. This is the end of me.'

Mikagami clenched his eyes shut, hoping that she would mistake him for being asleep.

The seconds ticked by… but the deathblow he was waiting for never happened. Mikagami decided to take a risk and open his eyes.

Her breathing was still deep and regular.

Fuuko was still asleep, apparently; Mikagami relaxed a little.

She moved again. This time Mikagami recognized what Fuuko was doing – or rather, what Fuuko's _body_ was doing (because Fuuko would never be doing it consciously).

She was snuggling against his chest.

It was a rare occasion for Mikagami to be openly embarrassed; it was an even rarer occasion for Mikagami Tokiya to blush.

But he was blushing.

He knew it.

He could feel heat racing up his neck. His face felt too warm. If he had any space left over in his brain to comprehend this he would have been thinking that being embarrassed was an entirely uncomfortable state of being. Unfortunately for Mikagami, his brain was completely devoted to processing each and every pleasurable sensation that Fuuko's moving body was eliciting from his skin.

Mikagami clenched his teeth and he felt a thin film of perspiration bead along his hairline.

If she kept moving like that… things might get a little awkward…

Mikagami closed his eyes tightly and thought about Recca and Domon again. Those blustering fools. He thanked the gods for them. Truly, this was the first time in years he actually felt a bonedeep sense of gratitude for his clumsy friends.

And then – Fuuko purred.

Mikagami bit his lip to stop from groaning. _(a desperate sound, he was certain it would be, and most unbecoming)_

Enough. This was more torture than any steel-willed man could handle. Mikagami had to get the hell away from his bed and the woman that was currently in it. The woman who was at this very moment pressing against his chest and filling his thoughts with how her eyes would open slowly, how she would part her lips slightly in surprise, how he would pin her down and kiss her –

'Oh. My. God.'

Mikagami jerked his hand away from her body and hastily, but silently, rolled out of his bed. His heart was racing. He had to go.

Anywhere.

As long as it was far away.

As he fled the room, Mikagami tried not to think about how he had just imagined kissing Fuuko. And how much he regretted not doing it.

---

**Author's Notes: **Ahhhh this is my favorite chapter so far! I love how they feel about each other! It's crazy! Wake up, guys! You like each other!

Anyway: **Mealoaf**, here it is! Thanks for looking forward to this fic! That makes me really happy!;**Funkysushi**, ahhh thanks so much! They are so dirty minded! But it makes for a good story hee hee; **Snowcharms**, Mi-chan has taken so many cold showers lately, it can't possibly be healthy for him! Thanks for reading!; **Nils**, poor Mi-chan can't control his perverted thoughts, but Fuuko is definitely not so innocent either eh?; **cabbage-pebbles**, I certainly will continue this! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!;**DR4GIV**, I most definitely will! Don't worry!; **Giselle d'Angouleme, **Mi-chan will be thoroughly picked on, have no worries! Also, do I mind? Hell no! yay!; **Aki Reinhart**, thanks for reading, dear!; **Abubi-chan**, haha chemistry indeed ne? I do love sexual tension, and I hope this chapter had enough of it for you!; **Eirist,** yup they totally are perverts! Both of them! Thanks for reading!; **Blackrose2005**, awww, thanks so much! I'm glad you enjoy it!; **9081, **thank you, I'll try my best!; **mikaro**, they are so corrupt! hee hee, yeah recca and domon in a bikini is kinda scary!

Thanks everyone!


	9. Worship

Notes: FoR does not belong to me

**Notes: FoR does not belong to me! Things steam up in this chapter… you've been warned!**

**Worship**

Fuuko opened her eyes. It took her less than a second to re-orient herself. _Right… _

_I'm in Mi-chan's bed._

Fuuko was lying on her side with Mi-chan's grey sheets tangled up to her waist. Her eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, Fuuko was tempted to fall back into the illusion that she was in her own bed. She sighed lightly. It was tempting alright, but now she had to deal with reality in the form of an awkward encounter with a certain anti-social silver-haired ex-teammate.

Fuuko carefully stilled her breathing and tried to sense if Mi-chan was awake. Her sensitive hearing picked up… nothing.

Nothing?

She jerked upright. There was no one else in the bed. Or in the room for that matter. Mi-chan was gone.

Fuuko frowned, and then raised a curious eyebrow. Well. This was an interesting way of dealing with things. It wasn't exactly what she had expected from Mi-chan, but it… worked. Sort of. Worked in the sense that neither of them would need to face each other immediately. This way… there would be time for both of them to pretend that nothing… odd… had happened.

Fuuko flipped the covers off as she got out of bed. Not that anything _really_ odd had happened.

Really, she was making too big a deal out of an innocent, if slightly out of character (for both of them) incident. It wasn't as if anything truly life-changing had happened. In fact, if she thought about it carefully, _nothing _happened that had changed _anything_. In _fact_, all that had happened was that she had shared a bed with a friend.

Fuuko smiled. Life was still _normal_. _Nothing_ had happened. She did a mental jig in her head, and then laughed out loud.

Mi-chan had probably come to the same conclusion. _That_ was why he had left without waking her! Because there had been no need at all to talk about it! Because it wasn't even important in the grand scheme of things!

Fuuko grabbed a scrap piece of paper and scribbled happily on it. She taped it to the back of his door, and whistled happily as she left his room. As she left the room, the image of Mi-chan's sleeping expression surfaced in her memory and she smiled cheekily. Who knew that Mi-chan had an expression range larger than a teaspoon? Of all the strange things to happen in the world! She chuckled.

Life was good. She had had a great night's sleep. And _nothing_, _nothing at all_ had changed in her life.

--

Mikagami scowled at the cheery mid-morning sun, and then squinted down at the school grounds. From his vantage point on the roof, he could see the bustle of students rushing to class on the green of the main campus. He would have felt all-knowing and all-powerful but -- it was too hot. The sun was too hot – a trickle of sweat made its way down Mi-chan's temple.

He was wasting his time out here. And he knew it. He just… well, he just didn't know where to go. This was pathetic in and of itself, but – he was worse than that. He was… a coward. Mi-chan clenched his teeth; it hurt him to admit it to himself but it was the truth, and when one finally dusted off all the layers of self-deception, the truth was really all that was left. And the truth was that he was afraid. Of Fuuko.

He leaned against the balustrade, and closed his eyes. He was afraid? Of Fuuko? Was that really the _truth_? An invisible hand brushed off another cobwebbed layer of lies.

No, he wasn't afraid of Fuuko. He was afraid… of looking at her? No… not really. He wasn't afraid of looking at her. He was afraid of…?

Fuck it. Mi-chan let out a frustrated groan.

Maybe underneath the layers of lies was nothing at all.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of pink. He cursed softly under his breath as his eyes tracked what was undoubtedly Fuuko's absurdly pink mane. If he hadn't known better, it almost looked like she was skipping. Mikagami narrowed his eyes. Wait a minute… she _was_ skipping.

What the hell!

Here he was, hiding from the world like the biggest coward to have ever been created in Japan, and there she was: _skipping_ for bloody joy. (Mikagami didn't pause to think about why it was so important that Fuuko was to feel _un_joyful like he was feeling.)

The world was absurd! He was… atoning. That was what he was doing. Atoning for whatever the hell caused him to do whatever the hell he almost did this morning – which was, in part (a large part, if he had any say in it) due to a certain Kirisawa Fuuko's actions as well. But no. She didn't have to atone for anything. Or rather, she didn't feel the need to atone for anything.

Mikagami scowled. Well. Fine then. He didn't have to atone for anything either. He rolled his eyes, and tried to pretend that he hadn't noticed that she hadn't changed out of her clothes from last night, that her skirt was rumpled and was therefore, shorter than usual.

He groaned in frustration. This was… too complicated. He was being… fucking unreasonable, and he knew it. The bloody layers of dust just kept piling up and no matter how much he tried to sweep them off, the heart of the matter just kept eluding him. Why was he acting like this?

Whatever. He didn't need to think about this anymore.

Pushing off from the balustrade in one clean stroke, and bringing his gaze away from the streak of pink racing across campus, Mikagami stuffed his fists into his pockets and made his way deliberately back to his room. Closing his eyes, he raised his face towards the intensely bright sun.

In the strange dark brightness that Mikagami saw, a flash of sensation surfaced; the memory of a body pressed flush against his, the sound of a quiet breathing in his ears, the ceaseless smell of peaches. He opened his eyes and was blinded.

"Fuck." Mikagami buried his burning face in his hands. He was going crazy.

That was the only explanation.

--

When he opened the door to his room, his gaze was immediately drawn to his bed. The sheets were a tangled mess and his comforter was dangling in a semi-crumpled state off the end of his bed; it _almost_ looked as if something debauched had occurred there the night before. Mi-chan felt a now-familiar flush under his collar and frowned. 'Trust Fuuko to leave her mess in someone else's room,' he thought to himself. But that was not entirely true… he _had_ after all been in that same bed the night before. He looked away from the bed awkwardly.

As he turned around to hang his coat on the back of his door, he noticed the note stuck to the back of it. With a quick motion, he snatched it off the door, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it across the room.

He stared at it for a while, expressionless, and then sighed as he strode across the room and picked the note up. He smoothed it out, toyed with the edge of the paper, and then, feeling unreasonably nervous, began to read it.

"Miiii-chan!" it read. (_Fuuko's voice echoed in Mikagami's mind_)

He rolled his eyes at the nickname he had explicitly told her to stop calling him.

"Make your bed! It's a stupendous mess!"

Mikagami raised a silver eyebrow and the corner of his lips quirked involuntarily.

"I'm going to turn in the model; you better thank me, you lazy bum!"

The silver-haired man cast a quick look at the corner of the room; the model-from-hell was indeed gone. He shrugged and returned to the note.

"Well, I'll come by later to check in on you! Seeya!"

_Wait. Come by later? To check in on me? _

Mikagami frowned. What was that supposed to mean? He looked back at the bed and his feet moved him slowly towards it. The rumpled sheets stared back up at him. Slowly lowering himself onto the edge of his bed, he imagined he smelled the scent of peaches. But that was impossible.

Wasn't it?

_Wasn't it?_

He collapsed on his back and pulled his pillow over his face. As he inhaled in a deep breath, he was overwhelmed by the sweet smell of fresh fruit – his shout of frustration was muffled by the pillow that now had an odor that was odd but appealing, a mixture of his spice and her sweetness.

Mikagami clenched the sheets in his fist and closed his eyes – after a while he dozed off into a fitful sleep.

--

The corridor was completely empty. This was no surprise – warm mid-afternoons in the spring tended to bring the students out to the main green.

Fuuko grinned widely as she sauntered down the hallway towards Mikagami's room. The professor had been incredibly impressed with their model – he hadn't even asked about Mi-chan's absence during the informal (and unexpected) presentation he had requested. He had just assumed that Mi-chan had been too sick to make it; apparently, Mi-chan was in Professor Kobayashi's good books. If the professor's nods and satisfied smiles were any indication of their grade for the project, it seemed rather certain that they would be getting an A.

_I can't wait to tell Mi-chan!_

Fuuko carefully cradled the delicate model in the crook of her arm as she knocked on Mi-chan's door. There was no answer.

Strange. Fuuko had Mi-chan's class schedule down pat and she _knew_ that he didn't have any classes after 10 in the morning; he also didn't like leaving his room, so he _had_ to be in there. She pursed her lips in annoyance. 'So Mi-chan thinks that he can shut me out of his life, does he?' she thought with an indignant stamp of her foot. Well, she would show him that Kirisawa Fuuko was made of sterner stuff! She wasn't going to be deterred just because of the somewhat embarrassing event that had transpired between the two of them. She raised her fist to pound heavily on the door, but the second before her knuckles made contact with the wood, she stopped herself.

A naughty thought occurred to her.

_Instead of annoying him even more, why not… launch a sneak attack? He thinks he can keep me out by not answering his door – but I'm going to prove him wrong. AND I'm going to have fun shocking him at the same time! _

She chuckled evilly to herself, then pulled a hairpin out from her messy bun, and with a quick twist of her fingers, molded the pin into the right shape. As she slowly inserted it into the lock, she cast a quick look down the corridor to make sure that no one was around. It was safe. Slowly jiggling the makeshift key, she finally heard the satisfying sound of the lock popping open. She entered the room.

The room was dark – the curtains were drawn. It took her a few seconds to adjust to the dim lighting. All thoughts of launching a surprise attack on Mi-chan vanished from Fuuko's mind when her gaze fell on the prone figure of the silver-haired man sprawled across his as yet unmade bed. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest told her he was asleep… but there was a pillow on his face? Fuuko smiled in amusement. 'Honestly,' she thought to herself, 'who would have thought that Mi-chan was such a ridiculous sleeper?'

She watched him sleep for a few minutes, enjoying how peaceful he seemed to be before she realized that the pillow should be removed – it was cutting off his oxygen supply. She carefully made her way towards him, taking the utmost care to be completely silent.

She placed the model on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. She slowly set the pillow aside, but before she could even comprehend what was happening, Mi-chan had flipped onto his side and his hand shot towards her. Fuuko found her wrist captured in Mi-chan's vice-like grip.

Fuuko blinked in shock.

_He's still so fast._

She tried to pull her hand away, but it wouldn't budge. She frowned, and then used more strength. It didn't work. Beginning to feel annoyed, she pursed her lips, and used her other hand to try and pry his fingers apart – to no avail.

_And still irritatingly strong._

She let her free hand fall away. 'Well, it seems like all I can do right now is wait until he wakes up…" _and watch him sleep_. A small voice in her head piped up. _And watching him sleep isn't so bad at all, is it, Fuu-chan, in fact, you quite enjoy it don't you, watching his face move, watching his mouth, watching as his lips press together, wondering how it would feel pressed against yours – _

Fuuko growled and violently tried to pull her hand away from the silver-haired man – it was all his fault that she was having such strange thoughts! She tugged at her hand with renewed effort, now, not caring if she woke him up or not.

Fortunately for her, Mi-chan didn't wake up.

_Un_fortunately for her, however, while her energetic movements were not successful in removing her arm from his grasp, they were successful enough to rouse him from deep sleep – he was began moving about in his semi-slumber.

Fuuko stared in shock, horror, bewilderment, _pleasure _ as Mi-chan slowly brought his hands to his face, and pressed the hand that he had captured against his lips. Her skin tingled at the light contact.

Thankfully, that was when he stopped moving. Fuuko looked down in disbelief at the scene that greeted her. The hand (for surely it was not _her_ hand) looked like it was being held gently against the handsome silver-haired man's slightly smiling mouth. A romantic picture for sure, if it hadn't been for the fact that it was Fuuko's hand that was being so tenderly kissed and that it was Mi-chan's mouth that was doing the kissing!

What was going on! Fuuko felt a warm flush blaze up her neck and to her face. She didn't need a mirror to know that she was turning completely pink. In embarrassment. No other emotion.

Just embarrassment. She wasn't turning pink because she was being _turned on_. Nope. Embarrassed was the word.

_Yeah. Right._

But no. That was _not_ a kiss. A kiss… was more than just a mere pressing of lips to skin. It was… passionate. Fuuko nodded vigorously to herself. Her hand was definitely _not_ being kissed by Mi-chan. So _obviously_ it was fine. It was _completely_ platonic. Like when you press your lips to Grandma's. She crushed the irrational disappointment (_and where had that come from?)_ that had sprung forth suddenly. Mi-chan had probably just brought his hands closer to his face, and since her hands were currently imprisoned in his grip, by that very same token, her hands had been brought close to his face … and so there was… necessary contact.

Fuuko blushed deeper. It was just _normal, platonic_ contact! Goddamnit!

She scowled. This was the stupidest thing ever, feeling hot and bothered because stupid Sir Ice-block had his lips platonically pressed against the back of her hand. _Not_ kissing it.

Then, Fuuko let out a small gasp because Mikagami was moving his lips, and all Fuuko could do was stare at him, all thoughts lost, as she watched, as if in slow motion, Mikagami's lips part, and press harder against her hand. Her throat worked, eyes riveted on the thin lips that were moving languorously, purposefully, _sensuously_ against her skin. This was _not_ happening. This couldn't _possibly_ be happening. Because _this _was definitely a kiss, and that would mean that _Mi-chan_ was kissing _her_ hand. And it was definitely not, most definitely not, _platonic_ at all.

Fuuko felt her mouth go dry. She clenched her teeth together, and her breathing became shallow. The darts of electric sensation from the point of contact shot to the rest Fuuko's body. She felt sweat beading along her hairline.

As Fuuko tried to rationalize what was happening before her very eyes, things took a turn for the worse. She watched, her eyes widening slowly, as the pink edge of Mikagami's tongue appeared and began teasing her skin. Fuuko wanted to close her eyes, but found that she had lost control of most of her body. Her jaw dropped, and all she could hear was the loud pounding of her heart in her ears. She couldn't take her eyes of his tongue as it moved, soft, wet and insistent against her skin.

She heard a soft sound, and then realized it was coming from her. She… was moaning, she thought (_perhaps one of her last coherent thoughts)_, eyes turning into slits. Her head tilted back slowly as her neck became too weak to keep it upright, but, all the while, her gaze was fixed onto Mi-chan's flickering tongue, watching as it lapped and pressed and licked the skin at the back of her hand.

He turned her hand over slowly, and Fuuko watched, her breathing audible, even to her, as he brought her index finger between his lips, licking at her knuckle. She felt the sharp, short, cruelly pleasurable sensation of Mi-chan bringing his teeth together and gently biting her skin. The combination of seeing her finger between Mi-chan's lips and feeling the nip of his teeth caused her head to fall back and her eyes to close against her will. Another soft moan was dragged out from deep inside her, a soft, desperate, needy sound, and Fuuko hated herself, hated that noise, but she couldn't help it.

Fuuko felt Mikagami's tongue travel down to the sensitive skin of her wrist. Her eyes were closed now, and she didn't have the strength to open them. Mikagami… was worshipping her hand. There was no other way to describe it. He was… making love to her hand. Fuuko licked her lips, her mind lost in sensation.

That was when she heard the groan. It wasn't hers this time because it was lower in register, deeper, rougher, and definitely _male._ It was like a splash of cold water, a splash of cold awareness. Fuuko's eyes snapped open and finally the realization of what was happening sank in.

_Ohmygod. _

_Ohmygodohmygod. _

_Oh my god. _

_What am I doing? What is Mi-chan doing? I – I – I have to get the hell away from here._

Fuuko snatched her hand out of Mikagami's now slack grip and pushed off the bed, not caring now if she woke Mikagami or not. She cast one quick look back at the sleeping figure, and as she noticed the shadowed curve of Mikagami's throat, as she felt the strange tug of desire to lick it, to nip it, to hear that same groan she heard two seconds before, she knew she had the get the hell out of the room and as far, far, far away from him and humanity as possible.

**Author's Notes: **I'm so very sorry for the delay, but at least this was a long chapter! The next chapter is partially outlined, and will take a while to write out. My deepest apologies; all I can ask for is your patience and your continued support!

I'm going to skip individual replies to reviewers this chapter in an effort to get this up as soon as I can, but please rest assured, each and every review means the world to me. Thanks for reading!


	10. Fulcrum

**Fulcrum**

Finally! I managed to get my act together and write this up. Thanks for all your patience and kindness. And remember, FoR does not belong to me! Now let's get this party started?

* * *

_Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my freaking god._

As she paced anxiously around the room, Fuuko bit viciously away at her right thumbnail. Her world was collapsing, momentarily at least, to utter shambles around her. This was fucking in_sane_. How had the world managed to pull _this _off? How had the world managed to make Mi-chan nip at her inner wrist – to make him lick the sensitive skin between her fingers – to make her moan – to make him – No! She refused to think about what had just transpired between her and Mi-chan. Which was _nothing nothing nothing NOTHING, goddamnit. _

She clenched her teeth, turned on her heel sharply to change directions, and, in her frazzled state, knocked her pencil holder over. The pencils clattered to the floor, and she winced slightly.

The broken pencils scattered in every direction on her carpet stared blankly at her. Fuuko stared back at them, shook her head as if to shake off a certain memory, then sighed and bent down to pick the pencils up.

She reached out to grab one, and stopped suddenly, her gaze focused on the hand that was about to close around the pencil.

_This is… my hand?_

It was hers undoubtedly. She recognized the faint scars that ran along the back of her hands, the ones that began at the knuckles and tapered off at the wrist, the ones that she had gotten when she was training with the fuujin She noted her short fingernails worn down to the quick from years of nervous nail biting. She looked fondly at the (very) small tattoo of a cloud at the soft skin between the thumb and index finger. This was her hand. The hand that had saved her life so many times, that had shook so many hands, that had punched countless numbers of jerks. The very same hand that Mi-chan had been kissing, the very same index finger that he had suckled, the very same wrist that he had licked, pressing his pink tongue into her skin, pressing softly and with pressure, his teeth nipping sharply at her knuckle, and Fuuko's eyes closing, she heard Mi-chan's soft groan echo echo echo.

A blush branded her neck, and she buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. The image of his lips against her skin, the feel of his tongue – and was that the scent of his cologne? The images in her mind grew sharper, more vivid, and it was all Fuuko could do not to throw her head back and moan as the scene in Mi-chan's bedroom played itself over and over in her mind. His groan, deep and so soft, pulled at something dark at the base of Fuuko's abdomen. Over and over again, the desperate sound he had made echoed in her mind and – it was getting louder.

Her mind, as if in rebellion, began to form scenes she was sure had never happened. As she closed her eyes, hearing Mi-chan's voice in her head, she saw him opening his eyes. He reached up to her, and grabbed her other wrist. With a deft motion he captured both of her hands in his left grip and now he was pushing her backwards onto his bed, eyes dark and glittering, lips curling into a dangerous smile, and he began to lean towards her so that she was lying underneath him, his left hand pinning her hands behind her head, his right hand supporting his weight as he tented her body with his. _Fuuko_, he says, _Fuuko_, in a rough voice, and suddenly his mouth is on her neck, his tongue lapping at her skin, his sharp teeth sinking into the sensitive junction of her neck and shoulder and –

A shrill cry tore the silence of the room apart. Fuuko leapt up and let out another horrified scream.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. For the love of all things fluffy and cute, please God, please… If you're there, please please please please don't tell me I've just imagined what I've just imagined. Please. I'll – I'll – I'll even donate all my comics to charity. Just please. Just please…_

_I didn't just do that. I didn't just fanta-fucking-size about Mi-chan making love to me. _

_Right? __**Right?**_

_But I just __**freakin'**__ did. Fuck. __**Fuck.**_

_I-I-I have to get the hell out of here._

Without a second's delay, Fuuko dashed out of her room. All that was left in her wake was a sad sea of broken pencils littering her floor.

---

My dearest fans,

I have the juiciest news, in like, maybe a century! Right. You ready? So it started like this, you know? Ten minutes ago I was like painting my nails in my room when I felt this like urge to walk around the hallway in my lingerie cause, like, I know that some of the boys on our floors really need a pick me up from all that studying, like, for that big exam on chemicals and stuff, right? And I like totally bumped into like, the freak of the CENTURY. No wait, the MiLeNiUM. You know who I'm talking about. Miss-I'm-too-cool-to-shower-with-boys, Miss-I'm-so-cool-cause-I-have-pink-hair. Like ew, gross, get over yourself, there is NOTHING wrong with showering with boys especially if you're in the same shower stall! ANYWAY. Back to the point! Right, so I was like walking down the hallway waiting for my nails to get set, and like all of a sudden, like literally all of a sudden, Kirisawa-freakazoid like jumps out of her door and like crashes into me! Like literally! Crashing into ME. I know, right? So gross. I think I'm going to have to get an emergency detoxification session just to make myself feel right again.

Well anyway, so she like crashed into me, and I was like going to give her the LESSON of her LIFETIME, but like I looked at her and man was she a crazy sight! Her hair was like actually uncombed and like, her face had NOT A SINGLE smudge of make-up on it. Worse, she had this like crazy look in her face. You know! The kind that makes you feel kind of…spooooky. Yeah. I figured she had FINALLY lost it. You know? Like, I was kinda just waiting for her to be like a nut case and like it FINALLY happened. I knew I was psychic. Anyway, I was like So what are you Up to… Fuuko? I was all like being all polite and shit and the little crazy just totally ignored me. She was like mumbling all this crazy things and I was like whoa girl I don't know what you're talking about! You're like a little nuts right now, you know? And like I giggled to show that I was sympathetic and she totally just IGNORED ME. Freak.

Anyway she was like mumbling something about like, the track, and like how she had to get there and like sometimes screaming NO really loudly. Like I said, being a really crazy maniac. The freaks that live at our school are just soooo like everywhere!

Well whatever. That's my gossip for today. I spotted this crazy a WEEK ago! Remember that!

I'll be charging 50 bucks per prophecy,

Lina Bina!

--

Mikagami groaned, turned over, and his mind hovered in the grey area between sleep and waking. He had had a wonderful dream because a note of satisfaction thrummed through his body like an undercurrent of static.

Slowly, as his mind floated towards consciousness, he became aware that it was dark out. He lay without moving, completely awake now, and breathed slowly. As always, snippets of dreams trickled back, slowly flashing and insinuating their way into his mind. Soft flesh. Flicks of fine hair against his face. A female voice. Sex. The scent strong and overwhelming.

He smiled wryly at himself as he surreptitiously checked his underpants. Nope, no mess. It was simply an erotic dream.

He sat up in bed and raised his arms high over his head, stretching them, and let out a long and satisfying yawn.

Well, it _would_ have been satisfying if he hadn't seen what he happened to see mid-yawn. As it were, his gaze fell onto the (unfortunately) familiar-looking model that was now sitting innocently by the corner of his bed on the floor. His breathing stopped and his face was frozen mid-yawn. Forcing his mouth close, his thoughts raced.

What was the model doing here?

It hadn't been there before he fell asleep. Which meant that Fuuko had come into his room and left it there. But why hadn't she woken him? Did something happen during the presentation with the professor? More importantly, what had she _heard_ while he was dreaming?

Mikagami felt embarrassment creep into his cheeks. He knew he occasionally slept-talked, as Domon had informed him during high school with a cheeky smile on his face, but most of the time it (so he had been told) was unintelligible mumbling. He gulped.

Right. Well… nothing happened. Probably. He probably didn't say anything too embarrassing. Yup. He probably didn't say anything at all. Definitely nothing about Fuuko's generous derriere or her quite delicious looking set of breasts—nope, how could he even say that in his sleep! He was sure that in his sleep he was reduced to being the worst sort of caveman—yes, he nodded to himself. The worst thing that could have happened was that he drooled in his sleep and Fuuko took pictures. Ha! As if he could have revealed any of his real thoughts in his sleep! He was better trained than that.

Feeling significantly reassured, Mikagami decided to set off and investigate what exactly happened during the presentation. He scowled. Fuuko had better not screwed up his grade point average or he would be _very _angry.

--

Mikagami was getting frustrated. He had gone over to Fuuko's room and knocked but no one had come to the door. He knocked and knocked. And then he knocked some more. But still. There was no answer. He heard teeth grinding together. He was getting… angry. Yes. The rising sensation in his chest—that had to be anger. He knocked once more. The next time his fist made contact with the door, he decided, it would be with great force and great violence, and the door would be blasted away into little bits of freakin' woodchips. He raised his hand.

"My, my, aren't we getting a little worked up?"

Mikagami froze. That voice. Unmistakable. His hair stood on end. He stiffly turned to his right, where, as expected, the indomitable Lina stood with a hand on her hip and a pout on her lips.

"Yes." Mikagami replied stiffly, striving to remain polite. If he had to be molested by this insanity that roamed the dorm hallways, in addition to being in the dark about his grades, he would be incredibly incredibly pissed; and someone would be paying. He didn't care who. "I need to ask Fuuko about the chemistry project. We were working on it together."

Lina brought her other hand up to her face and giggled. She peeked over the top of her fingers and blinked in what he assumed must be what _she_ assumed to be a flirtatious manner. "Well…" Lina looked away from him and smiled. She then began toying with her hair. "I might have seen… her…"

That caught Mikagami's attention. He felt his heart sinking. He knew she was going to ask some crazy-ass request in exchange for what she knew. He sighed. "Well. Then could you tell me where she went?"

Lina twirled around and giggled. She ignored his question. "Don't you like my nail polish? It's called 'Sunset Seduction." She whispered the name and looked up at Mikagami from under her fake eyelashes.

"Uh. Oh. Yes. It's very… striking." Mikagami knew he would have to treat himself to something after this torture. And all for _Fuuko_ too. Damned girl.

"I painted it… just for you." Lina fluttered her lashes at the unimpressed Mikagami.

"Oh? That's very nice. About Fuuko…?" Mikagami tried to keep a straight face. Or rather, he tried not to vomit down his shirt. That would be very rude indeed, he thought to himself, but certainly understandable.

Tossing her long hair over her shoulder, Lina leaned forward slightly and pushed her boobs together. "Do you like it? The color, I mean," she giggled stupidly.

"Uh. Yeah…. And Fuuko is…?"

When Lina kept her pose, he sighed, and smiled, deciding to change tactics.

"You know, actually, I don't really care where Fuuko is. I'd rather hang out with you," he flashed Lina his most winning smile (which, on Mikagami, looked unfortunately more like a grimace than a smile) and leaned towards her. "But you know, I really need to talk to Fuuko so that I can finally put my mind at peace, you know? After that, I'm all free all night." Some part of Mikagami died a cruel and unusual death. He swallowed. Surely, he was being punished for _something_! He promised himself he would wash his mouth out with extra-strong Listerine later.

Lina's eyes widened. "Really?" she squealed.

"Would I ever lie to you?"

A pink blush crept up Lina's cheeks. "Well…" she said, suddenly shy, "she went to the tracks, I think, but you know," she said, rolling her eyes, "I really think she might be insane."

Mikagami smiled his first genuine smile. "I completely agree with you."

--

The night cast a dark blanket on the campus. There was a faint breeze in the air and Mikagami enjoyed the smell of the raw night. It was quiet.

No one wandered this far away from the center of campus at night—and certainly the athletic facilities were not frequented once it became dark out. So Mikagami relished the stillness and the silence broken only by the crickets and the leaves rustling gently.

Normally, he would be walking leisurely, taking in the unique sensations of being out at night and being all alone, but Mikagami was walking at a smartish pace. Something was bothering him. And that something was Fuuko.

Why was she at the tracks? First of all, no normal person would be there at night. But that was a moot point, because, as everyone knew (even the abominable Lina) Fuuko was _not_ a normal person. More importantly, though, Mikagami knew that whenever the indefatigable Fuuko felt unsure, unhappy, or otherwise _off_, she went running.

What had happened? He was worried. And then, as he caught a glimpse of the moon's round and illuminated face, he realized he was worried about _Fuuko_, not about his grade, or their stupid presentation, but about Fuuko herself. The girl. The one who smelled of peaches, and had short pink hair, whose smile was the cheekiest, happiest smile he knew.

Something big must have happened. He could count on his fingers the number of times Fuuko had disappeared and was later found to have gone for a "run" (these runs consisted of marathon-like sprints that ended up with Fuuko exhausted, dehydrated, and occasionally, sick like a dog). Once was when Raiha left. The other time was when her mother died.

(There was also the time that Mikagami left without a word, but he didn't know about that.)

So Mikagami felt a surge of relief when he spotted a human-shaped lump at the far corner of the tracks. With a start, he realized the shape was lying on its side.

Was she okay? Mikagami started running, imagining various horrible situations—heart attack, heat-stroke (at night?), malnutrition, death, coma.

"Fuuko!" he called out, "Fuuko! Oi!" But she didn't respond. His heart started pounding. _Shit_. _This stupid girl. Killing herself at night._ _I'll kill her myself once I get to her. That stupid, idiotic girl. She better be all right once I get to her. Or else…_

Mikagami wondered if he was panicking—certainly it felt like panicking—and he picked up the pace. _Just don't… die. Stupid girl._

When he finally reached her, panting, sweaty, and unkempt, he let out a laugh of relief. He could hear her breathing; could see the rise and fall of her chest. She was curled on her side, like a baby, and she looked unhappy. She was sound asleep.

He stood over her for a moment. Looking at her face. The way the moonlight lit the fragile planes of her cheekbones. The way her hair fell softly across her eyes. The trembling of her eyelashes. Her mouth soft and vulnerable.

He had never seen her like this before. He felt something inside him shift, change, fall over, fall apart; felt a lump rising in his throat felt it push up, felt some strange horrid and large black emotion rise up, shaking him, shaking his bones, shaking his chest, until he thought he might cry.

He wanted to touch her, to stroke her cheek. She looked so fragile. Like a girl. Like a baby. He swallowed. Shook his head. This was no time to be losing his mind, he reminded himself. But as he looked at her sleeping form at his feet, he wondered what was happening to him, to her, to them.

"Hey, Fuuko," he whispered, nudging her back with the tip of his shoe. "Wake up."

The breeze began to pick up. That was when he realized he had been standing there staring at her for somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes. He began to notice that Fuuko was curling tighter and tighter into a ball—she was cold.

He reached out his hand (trembling slightly) and placed a finger on her bare shoulder (the stupid girl had dressed in a tank top and running shorts). He felt her clammy skin, still slightly damp from her sweaty run. If she stayed out here in the cold any longer, she was bound to fall ill. He sighed, and twisted his lips unhappily. He supposed there was no other alternative.

He eased her arm around his shoulders, then scooped her up, her knees dangling over his other arm. Fuuko stirred, but didn't wake, mumbling incoherently. She turned towards his chest, pressing her face into the warmth, and Mikagami stared down at her, suddenly feeling helpless and frozen. He could smell her sweat, the salt, and underneath it, the lingering smell of fruit that seemed to ooze out of her pores.

He pursed his lips. It was time to go home. There wasn't any time for stupid things like appreciating Fuuko's unique scent up close. He ignored the way she moved softly in her arms (she reminded him of a cat), and he made his way slowly back to the dorms.

* * *

Author's note: Thank you ALL so very much for your reviews. I love getting them, I really really do. Every review I got was a little reminder that I still had to work on this chapter--so even though it took me a long time, all your reviews contributed to this coming out today! Thank you, again.

Lot's of love,

xabie


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